Fighting Another War
by CrimsonSnowflake
Summary: Harry had always known that his purpose in life was to defeat the Dark Lord. Still, in an entirely different world, he had found yet another one. Two destinies to be fulfilled, two worlds to be saved and death was right behind him. SLASH!
1. Missing

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **Crimsonsnowflake

**Warning:**This story is rated M. It contains Slash (boyxboy) and may have some contents that aren't fitted to the younger readers.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N:** Alright everyone! I've finally finished re-writing! This first chapter haven't been changed that much but hopefully it's a little better than the original one. For those of you who has followed the story ever since I began writing it you'll know that this is my second and last re-write. I will not be putting you through the long wait that comes with re-writes again and so hopefully you'll all like this version of the story.

I recommend that all of you (that includes those of you who have read it before) read everything from the beginning, there has been made some drastic changes and because some of the new chapters are longer and more stretched we haven't gotten as far with the timeline as we originally have.

Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

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_"Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair." - William Cowper, 1731-1800._

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**Chapter 1: **

**Missing**

The heat was unbearable; it almost seemed as if the earth itself was a hot frying pan. In fact, because of the heat most people were staying inside in an attempt to escape from the overbearing warmth. There was no sign of any human life anywhere-- except for one boy. In the garden of number 4, Privet Drive, a boy was crouched down on his knees, tending to the various flowers.

Unruly raven black hair was sticking out in every direction, and a pair of beautiful, bright green eyes hidden behind a pair of old glasses lit up his face, despite the dull hint of tiredness that could be seen in them. The most unusual thing about the boy was the lightning shaped scar hidden behind a curtain of hair on his forehead. This hard working boy was none other than Harry Potter, The-boy-who-lived, the saviour of the Wizarding world-- or in some people's opinion a complete lunatic.

Harry's hands were covered in cuts; the soft skin was marred by the bleeding wounds which were no doubt caused by the roses he had just tended to. A drop of sweat had gathered on his eyebrow, slowly trailing down his temple to its destination, his neck. A dirt covered hand rose to cut off the sweat from its destination as a longing look was sent towards the house he was currently outside of. Dudley's laughter could be heard through the open window, nearly drowning out the sound of the television in the background. His cousin seemed to not have a worry in the world – no fears and no cares. Utter freedom.

A sigh escaped from him as he turned back to the plants; if it weren't for the horrible heat he would be enjoying himself. The plants never judged him; they never teased him or called him names. The fact that the plants never talked at all did not even cross his mind, for he was too content with the fact that he didn't have to care about someone judging him. The plants distracted him from the cruel world, and that was enough for him.

When he was finished potting the red Ginger Lily, he sat back to take a little break and admire his work. Allowing himself to enjoy the first moment of peace he had had in months. Sadly, this moment was soon broken by his uncle.

"BOY! Get off your lazy arse and do as you're told to for once in your life!" Vernon roared, shaking his sausage like hand at him. The large man took a large gulp of his ice tea, not caring about the fact that the boy outside had no liquid to drink, before continuing.

"You still have the hedge to trim and your other chores to do!" The man turned his back on his nephew, shooting one last disgusted look at him.

"Ungrateful whelp."

Oh, how he loathed that man, that man who had made his childhood so miserable. All those days, all those years filled with pain and neglect... all because of that man and his family. Still he did not hate him; even Harry knew that if it weren't for Vernon providing him with food and clothes, he might as well have been dead.

"Get to work!" Petunia Dursleys shrill voice rang through the air, startling him out of his thoughts. With one last longing look at the house, he rose to his feet, a standing height of 5'5", and walked towards the gardening shed, intent on finding the hedge scissors. Opening the door, he looked around at the various tool hanging on the walls, and laying spread across the floor. With a slight frown he began his search for the hedge trimmer. If he weren't so used to it, he would have thought it impossible to find anything in the mess that was the gardening shed. A triumphant cry escaped him as he finally found what he was looking for - it had been hidden beneath a wheelbarrow.

He walked out of the shed, heading for the hedge. It was time for him to finish his chores. He dreaded to think about the abuse he would have to endure should he not manage to finish his chores within the time limit Petunia had set for him.

Yes, Harry was fed, he was clothed and he was kept relatively healthy, but despite all that he was abused. The humiliation, the insults and the countless wishes that he'd never been born were all so cruel and vicious that they literally abused him. They tore down his defences and left him with nothing but an empty shell. It was heartbreaking for a child to constantly be reminded of his own freakiness and of how he didn't belong with such outstanding beings as they.

There was nothing Dudley, Petunia and Vernon Dursley enjoyed more than destroying Harry from inside and out. It brought them to a new, unheard of plane of satisfaction. It brought them such ecstasy and such pleasure that it was the peak of their day. They practically lived to ruin his life.

Harry had early on learned to close himself off when they had these urges. He had learned to close his ears and not hear anything but his own breath. It worked most of the time, but then there were these instances when their words would cut straight through his shields and lodged themselves deeply into his vulnerable heart.

Still, he never let it show.

The sorting hat had been right when it wanted to sort him into Slytherin. Over the years Harry had become great at deception, at least infront of the Dursleys he had. No matter how much their words managed to hurt him he always masked it with an indifferent face, never giving them the fulfilment of knowing that they'd managed to wound him.

A great groan of relief escaped him as he finished with that dreadful hedge; it had taken him almost over an hour. He hadn't known it would take him so long. He sighed as he walked up the stairs, intent on reaching his room as fast as possible to get some much needed sleep. He almost cried out in relief when his room came in sight. His feet and hands were aching.

Ignoring Hedwig's distressed hoot he threw himself on the bed, too exhausted to strip off his clothes. His entire life consisted of these routines, in Privet drive at least. It was remarkable how different his life at Hogwarts was from this, though at least here he didn't have to worry about the threat of Voldemort.

Yes, here he had no crazed killer after him. This was his sanctuary, despite how awful it may be.

It was time he got some sleep. If he wanted to survive tomorrow's chores, he needed to be well rested. And so he closed out everything in the outside world, and focused solely on his own breath, falling into the dark abyss that was sleep.

It was weird really, how drastic the weather could change. Yesterday he'd been begging for some rain to escape from the heat and today it was raining cats and dogs. At least he'd finished the garden; he didn't even want to imagine how it would be like gardening in this weather.

Turning off the running water, he admitted to himself that it was getting tiresome to do the same old chores over and over again. At least he didn't have Petunia or Vernon breathing down his neck today. His _beloved_ Uncle and Aunt had figured that today was a nice day to visit Vernon's dreadful sister Marge. Luckily, they had decided that Harry was not to come with them.

Harry had once been told that humans all learn from their mistakes, that they repented when they discovered what sins they were guilty of committing. He, however, had yet to see it. People around him made mistakes all the time, but none of them learned from it, and none of them would have done it differently if they had gotten a second chance. He himself never learned from his mistakes. He always ran into situations unprepared, never thinking of the consequences. Oh yes, he was well aware of that fact, even if most people figured him ignorant in that apartment.

He wasn't, and had never been, as ignorant as people thought him to be. Just because he never said anything or did anything about it, didn't mean that he never noticed things going on around him. In reality, he was very attentive to the things happening around him.

Well, everything except love that is.

When it came to relationships he was oblivious. Hermione had once said that he wouldn't know if someone liked him unless they told him to his face, and even then he would have thought it was a joke. It wasn't possible for someone to love him; he had been told so numerous times and he'd slowly begun to believe it. It wasn't really a big thing to him, yes he was alone, and yes it was likely that he would be alone for the rest of his life, but he was used to it by now. Yes, he had his friends and the Weasley family, but they couldn't be counted as his real family. In his mind, Harry believed that he would always be alone.

The dark, mahogany grandfather's clock (A precious heirloom according to Vernon) standing in the living room chimed, ringing through the air with clear notes that made him look up from his cleaning, three more hours till the Dursley's would be home. He needed to speed up if he wanted to finish before they arrived. Petunia had made it very clear that if is his chores weren't finished by the time they returned, the consequences would be severe.

He wasn't foolish enough to believe that the threat was an empty one. He had, on several occasions, discovered that when Petunia said something like that, she meant it. He had felt the consequences before; he was not ignorant of what they involved. Days, perhaps even weeks, of verbal torture would be unleashed upon him, and even worse, he would be put to the task of cleaning Dudley's room. Shivering slightly at the thought he continued cleaning the stove as a sickening feeling of nausea swept over him. He didn't want to feel Petunia's wrath again, especially if it involved (which it probably did) even approaching the deathly hell hole that was Dudley's room. His mind was still scarred from the last time he'd been forced to endure such punishment. He imagined that the room of his large cousin was as close to hell as one could come on earth, and that said a lot.

Yes, he had scars; despite what every wizard in the Wizarding world believed his childhood had not been a walk on roses, quite the opposite really, it had been like walking over red hot lava. Oh yes, when it came to his muggle life everyone was ignorant. They did not know the mental pain and suffering he had gone through, at the tongues of his aunt and uncle, no less.

It was time for him to get some dinner, Petunia, the generous woman that she was, had left him some leftovers in the fridge. Naturally, there was no way a _freak_ like him deserved any better. One would think that the insult would bother him, but he was indifferent to it now. You could say that he was thick skinned; insults like 'freak' just bounced off him now. It was their constant reminders of how his parents had deserved to die that really got to him. Each time they cruelly said something horrible about them, he was nearly overwhelmed by the pain of having to endure these constant slights to his parentage. No one had the right to spit on their names; no one had the right to talk about them as if they deserved what Voldemort had done to them.

No! He would not go down that trail of thought again. He was over it; he had accepted his parent's deaths. They'd died - goodbye, end of story. Yes, it was a cold way of saying it but it was a fact. No one could defeat death; everyone dies sometime, from accidental death, murder, sickness or old age. One way or another, everyone dies. That was reality for you.

A beep alerted him that his dinner was ready. Grabbing a fork and a knife he headed towards the dining room, since he was the only one in the house at the moment he could see nothing wrong with eating in the dining room instead of his usual seat in the kitchen. It wasn't as if he would be caught or anything, right?

He snorted in amusement at the thought. The Dursley's couldn't catch a snail even if it was dangled before them as an offering. They were too caught up in their own world and their own pathetic lives to see something that was right in front of them. Surprisingly enough, the only thing they could catch was the thing they hated the most: magic. They had an extreme ability to figure out when Harry used magic, accidental or not. It was unnerving to say the least.

He finished his plate and headed for the kitchen again. It wouldn't do for him to leave any traces of his presence in the dining room. He could almost picture Vernon's face, purple with rage, at finding out that Harry had eaten his dinner at the table reserved for family members only, as Harry wasn't and had never been considered one of them, giving him no right to sit at their table and eat their food.

Washing the dishes he looked up at the grandfather's clock. Eight o'clock. The Dursleys would return soon. He would have to go up to his room before they arrived; it was a procedure they had adopted in the years Harry had been staying with them. And everyone, even Harry, was satisfied with it. It kept unnecessary arguments from arising.

With one last look at the kitchen he walked upstairs, He needed to prepare himself for bed before his aunt, uncle and his cousin could catch him using their precious water for his own use. He wasn't allowed to use any water without their permission, and even then it was only for two showers a week. He realized he was treated unfairly, but he was resigned to sucking it up. He only had to stay at the Dursleys for 6 weeks, after all. For the moment, it was tolerable.

The taste of mint flooded his mouth as he brushed his teeth, the fresh taste pleasing on his tongue. He looked up in the mirror and focused on his face, and the way his green eyes had a hint of tiredness in them, the way blue rings were starting to form under them. To most people running away would have been an obvious solution; they would think him a fool for not trying. But he'd tried alright, oh how he'd tried. Ever since he was little, he had made countless attempts to escape his prison, never managing to succeed. When he turned eleven, he had stopped trying.

He threw himself onto the bed, the mattress swaying slightly as he did. His room was unusually silent, the absence of Hedwig's hoots was welcome, he didn't think that he could deal with his energetic owl at the moment; he was too tired to deal with her antics. With a quiet sigh, he removed his glasses, carefully putting them on his bedside table.

With trained movements he laid down on the bed, making sure not to bump his head against any sharp edges. It had taken years of practice for him to be able to lie down as swiftly and gracefully as he did now without the help of his glasses. He was, after all, practically blind without them.

The sound of a door being slammed was the only sign he got that the Dursleys had arrived, not that it mattered much to him, they would only ignore his presence, his chores was done for the day so they had no reason to want to interact with him.

Just as he was about to shut his eyes he shot up and out of bed. His heart raced in his chest as he fumbled around for his glasses. Something dark moved in the corner of his right eye, it danced in and out of his vision in jumpy movements, as if teasing him, as he frantically reached for his spectacles. The wind howled outside as he finally felt the hard contour of his familiar glasses. Hurriedly, he put them on, eyes swivelling around the room in a desperate search for something suspicious. He found nothing. Only the well-known sight of his bed, desk and wardrobe was seen.

With one last suspicious look around the room, he gave up, moving towards his bed with intent of getting a good night sleep. It didn't take long for him to fall into the dark abyss that was called slumber. The very second his head landed on his thin, uncomfortable pillow, he escaped into the world of dreams, nightmares and nothingness. No one noticed the slight flash that erupted from the room, no one noticed the loud shrieks emitting from a snow white owl that had just returned.

No one noticed that Harry James Potter was missing.


	2. The Story Goes Ever On

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning:** This chapter contains some bloody scenes, those of you who are sensitive to such scenes should skip it.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N:** I've noticed that I've begun ( as my writing has developed) to write more bloody scene, describing things more and such. I'm still deciding whether that's a good thing or not...

Anyway, I'm very happy with this chapter. This is after all a very important part of the story, Harry wakes up in Middle Earth for the first time and doesn't get a very good first impression. We all know that first impressions are a part of deciding if we like something or not and so that's why this chapter is as important as it is. Hopefully you'll all like the major change I've made and won't throw rotten food and sticky drinks at me in order to show your dismay. = )

Enjoy, all of you!

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_"Our greatest happiness does not depend on the condition of life in which chance has placed us, but is always the result of good conscience, good health, occupation and freedom in all just pursuits." - Thomas Jefferson, 1743- 1826._

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**Chapter 2: **

**The Story Goes Ever On**

Something was wrong, he couldn't quite put his finger on it but something was definitely wrong. He had felt this ominous feeling before, several times in fact, and they had all ended up with him facing some kind of trouble. Truthfully it wouldn't surprise him if, when he opened his eyes, he was face to face with Voldemort himself.

He did not dare open his eyes and look around for fear of what he would see if he were to do so. He didn't know where he was. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't at the Dursleys anymore. A slight, chilly breeze sent shivers through his body; wherever he was it wasn't summer time as it had been in England- no, it had to be the end of fall or the beginning of winter.

After some time of simply lying there shivering he opened his eyes. Humongous, blurry figures greeted him, like giants they loomed over him and surrounded him. The fact that he couldn't see exactly what they were was not in the least bit comforting. He was missing his spectacles, and without them he was helpless. If he couldn't see, he couldn't detect danger, and if he couldn't detect danger, then he most certainly couldn't fight it.

Clumsily, he fumbled around, desperately searching for his wand. If he had his wand, then he could use the spell Hermione had taught him, if he had this spell he could once again get his sight back and thusly protect himself. A frustrated cry escaped him as he realized that his wand was nowhere to be found. He was as vulnerable as a new-born baby.

Curses flew out of his mouth as he unsteadily tried to get onto his feet. It was amazing how much worse ones balance could get without the gift sight. Everything was so much more blurred, so ridiculously difficult! He was practically blind and he had no experience in relying on his hearing or his sense of smell. He damned himself for not having listened to Hermione and allowed her to use the spell on him before he had left for the Dursleys.

A small sense of triumph rushed through him as he finally managed to rise to his full, yet not impressive, height. Now all he had to do was find a way to move without falling onto his face after the first step. An easy task one might think, but it was everything but. Every time he tried to move, something got in the way, hitting him, tripping him, serving to make him unable to move about.

Deep, rumbling, rasping voices suddenly came from his right, headed straight his way. Branches snapped as heavy feet stepped upon them. The ground seemed to shake as they came closer and closer, and all the while Harry's panic seemed to reach new heights, roaring through him, filling his whole being with dread.

Harry was defenceless against something he had no knowledge of. He didn't know whether or not they would attack, he didn't know their weaknesses, more importantly Harry didn't know what to do as his whole body froze, refusing to move, despite his desperate commands.

Shrieks, roars, growls all filled the air as the ones approaching finally reached the place where he was standing. Strong fingers abruptly buried themselves in his hair, viciously jerking his head backwards, tearing out a few strands of his hair when he reacted too slowly. Just as he had thought, these were not his allies. In fact, the malicious vibes that seemed to roll off of them in waves clearly stated that they were here to hurt him, to mangle him, to kill him and leave him there cold on the ground without anyone ever knowing of his unfortunate fate.

A grunt like snarl erupted from the one holding him; brutally he was thrown to the ground and held down there, no amount of struggle, no amounts of threats or curses could get the creature to let up on his forceful grip. A pained gasp escaped him as he heaved for breath, those bastards had kicked him; they had actually dared to kick him in the stomach! He wasn't even a threat to them, for Merlin's sake!

Another snarl, this one with a more growl-like undertone to it, came from the one abusing him. Several grunts answered it and it almost seemed as if they were…communicating? With a start Harry realized that in the most primal way possible they were communicating and they expected him to know what they said, they expected him to answer them. Yet he couldn't.

It was impossible for him to answer them because if he did try he wouldn't know what he was saying. For all he knew he could insult them in the worst way possible. No, trying to reply to them was out of the question. It could lead to a far more dangerous situation then the one he found himself to be in.

A haunting shriek of pain, sounding suspiciously human, suddenly filled the air, ringing in his ears and startling his captor so much that he loosened his grip on Harry. Immediately, he sprung to his feet, unsteadily inching his way away from his captor only to stumble straight into a body behind him. They were everywhere, no matter where he tried going he always stumbled into something, resulting in furious snarls and growls being sent his way.

One more scream could be heard, this one with a hitch that made it clear that it was a female. Gruff laughter erupted from the creatures surrounding him. Malicious glee seemed to emit from their very being as scream after scream, cut through the air, tainting the normally peaceful silence with a horrendous echo.

Trembles went through his body like great tidal waves; they rocked him and left him standing there like a shaking leaf. Strong arms suddenly gripped him from behind, dragging him forward through the dirt and a thick, metallic-smelling liquid.

Steel like bands held him tightly, preventing him from moving as he was lifted to his knees and forced to kneel before those surrounding him. Howls of triumph were sent to the sky as the crowd became more and more excited. The cold, terrifying feeling of a sharp blade at the back of his neck sent a horrifying sense of death through him. Like so many times before he found himself to be standing with one foot in his grave, with the other barely stepping on the ground that was life.

The harsh blade cut slightly into his skin, forcing his blood, his life force, to come trickling forth, travelling downwards only to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt. A choked cry escaped his mouth as the stinging pain finally registered in his mind.

And then, the blade withdrew; it disappeared as if it had never been there. But Harry knew, he knew that it was still there, that it was high up in the air, clenched tightly in a hand, ready to descend upon him and mangle him, cut through him and end his life.

He could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a minute.

He had always imagined himself to die by a wand, or more specifically, he had imagined himself to die by Lord Voldemort's wand. And yet, here he was, kneeling in front of creatures that he knew nothing about, that he didn't even know what looked like. In the end, Harry James Potter would die without seeing his surroundings, without knowing where he was and kneeling before his executioner: truly a pathetic way to go.

He could nearly hear the blade as it descended, he could hear the way it cut through the air, the way it sang, excited that it would be coated by blood once again. Oh, he had no doubt that this blade had killed before, the swiftness that its owner handled it with clearly stated that this was not some inexperienced pup. No, this was a cruel, cold hearted killer.

And then silence.

Harry had expected a scream to come through his throat as pain erupted through his whole body. He had expected that laughter would fill the air as his pained cries flew to the heavens. He had expected to feel panic as his blood flowed through his veins, leaking out from where the knife had cut through. But there was nothing. No scream, no pain, only silence.

A thud sounded in his ears as the knife fell to the ground, unused except for giving Harry a shallow cut. The world seemed to slow down as chaos erupted in the crowd around him. Blurred figures ran in every direction, some pulling their weapons ready to fight, some dropping them to flee for their lives. Yet, all this seemed to go by as if in slow motion. No sound could be heard, not even the sound of his own breath. Harry was closed off from the world, and the world was closed off from Harry.

"Are you alright, my boy?" A deep, kind voice cut through his trance, bringing him back to reality.

Jerkily, Harry turned to face the large figure beside him. The colour grey seemed to dominate his vision as he tried to figure out what the man, the deep voice had indicated the person to be a man, actually looked like. When he could distinguish no features, he gave up, simply closing his eyes and running a frustrated hand over his face. He was quite crippled without his sight.

"Who are you?" Harry abruptly asked, not caring that it was rude of him to dismiss the man's question so easily.

A chuckle suddenly escaped from the man. "Yes, you are quite blunt, just as I imagined you to be."

"I repeat, who are you?" He snarled, furious at the man for not giving him any answer.

"Oh, how rude of me," he chuckled once again as if humoured by Harry's violent temper. "My name is Gandalf the Grey. And I have to say that it truly is a pleasure to finally meet you, Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter. Your arrival here has been anticipated for a long time."

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Deep, emerald green eyes cautiously fluttered open to greet the new day, tiredly staring forward, watching as the world slowly passed by. Soft, pink lips parted in a large yawn as a lithe, petite body stretched to get rid of any trace of sleep left in it.

Red and yellows coated the sky as the sun defeated the moon and finally took its rightful place up in the air, warming the people down on the ground and devoting itself to bringing as much light as possible to the world. Morning had finally arrived, driving away the dark creatures of the night and giving way to the ones living in the daylight.

Effortlessly, he ran his fingers across his face, gently tracing them over his cheeks, allowing them to run over the bridge of his nose. The delicious smell of food cooking filled his nostrils, intoxicating him and making his mouth water at the mere thought of food. He hadn't eaten since the morning before, both he and Gandalf had had to skip both lunch and dinner to escape their enemies and so because of that his stomach was screaming at him in hunger, punishing its master for not having fed it.

A small, unnoticeable grimace flitted across his face, marring his beauty for a second before disappearing just as fast as it had arrived. The constant scent of cooked meat branded itself into his nose, tormenting him, torturing him until he finally gave in and gracefully rose from his position on the ground.

A steady stream of smoke rose from the open fire that greeted him. Gandalf the Grey sat comfortably beside it, calmly stopping his pipe, humming on a tune Harry had never heard before and sending a brilliant smile Harry's way the moment he noticed him.

"Harry, my boy, you're finally awake. Good, good…" The wizard's bushy and greying beard, moved with every motion of Gandalf's head, rising up and down each time he shifted. "You should eat, we'll be leaving soon."

A small nod was the only answer he gave as he helped himself to the food and enthusiastically dug in. Never had food tasted as good as it did in that moment. Never had his tongue been covered in such a delicious taste before. It was blissful to feel the way the meat seemed to melt on his tongue. Perhaps it was because he was so hungry, perhaps it was because he experienced it outside in the wilderness, but one thing was sure, he enjoyed it immensely.

"I do hope it's to your taste." Gandalf suddenly said leaning on his staff as he busied himself by carefully rolling their beddings together.

"Oh, it's delicious." He smiled, looking up from his food for a short moment. "I've never tasted anything like it. What is it?"

"That, my dear boy, is rabbit - freshly caught rabbit." The wizard pleasantly said, winking his way, a small twinkle in his eyes lightening up all his features. "And if I may be so bold as to brag a little, the thing that makes it so good is my special spice mix. Not something well known, I assure you."

"Now, let me take a look at your eyes, I'm afraid I'll have to cast the spell once more before we're finished." In just seconds the old man had crossed the distance between them, immediately reaching up, prodding and poking around Harry's eyes.

In some ways Harry enjoyed watching as Gandalf looked over his eyes, there was something calming about the way the old man's wrinkled hands ran over his face, how he always talked to himself, either in confirmation of something he already knew, or in surprise, having discovered something new. Despite the pain that came with the spell, Harry was truly grateful. Gandalf had beyond doubt proved himself to be trustworthy when he had begun the process of repairing Harry's eyes.

Their days together had slowly evolved into a pattern, in the mornings Harry always awoke to the smell of food cooking; in fact, he had become so used to it that if the smell wasn't there he immediately knew that something was wrong. Their days were spent travelling, without mercy they pushed forward, intent on reaching Rivendell before the snow fell. Their nights, however, were probably what Harry enjoyed the most. They were filled with stories, magnificent stories of the world he was currently in, stories of Gandalf himself and his adventures, and stories of a race called 'hobbits'.

It was clear to him, that his travel companion had a special place in his heart for hobbits, the way he spoke of them indicated that the love he held for those creatures was bottomless. And influenced by that, Harry had also become fascinated by them. He always preferred tales of hobbits rather than tales of men, elves and dwarves. Nothing could compare to listening to Gandalf's deep voice speak of those gentle and kind yet, brave creatures. Harry caught himself several times thinking that he would very much like to meet a hobbit or two.

"Just as I thought, you'll have to endure the spell one more time and then you will have your sight back, just as they were when you wore those glasses of yours, Harry."

"Thank you."

"Oh, there's no need to thank me…" The grey wizard assured. "I'm afraid we'll have to wait until tonight to complete it. We have a long day of travel before us."

"Ah, as usual then." Harry replied, offering Gandalf a bite of his rabbit.

"Yes," Gandalf said, accepting the piece handed to him. "Just as usual,"

"Well then, let's pack things together here and get a move on." He had become quite enthusiastic during his travels with Gandalf, despite the incidents where they'd been attacked.

Without waiting for answer, he immediately rose to his feet, determined to pack away the few possessions they had with them. In reality they were all Gandalf's possessions, but the old man had been so kind as to lend him some clothes and such necessities. Harry found that he didn't need much, in fact, he enjoyed it more being in this world and only having the things you needed to survive. Here there was no television constantly making noise, there was no phone for Petunia to chat in, most of all there was nothing to disturb the peace.

Constantly, as they travelled, changes in the scenery could be seen. It varied from valleys to mountains to forest with trees just as large, or maybe larger, than the ones in the Forbidden forest. It amazed him how much he could enjoy the simple sight of a tree or a small brook calmly running down a hillside. London couldn't compare to the nature that surrounded him.

They travelled for weeks onward, sometimes with the sun warming their bodies, other times fighting the rain and wind with all they had. Sometimes they ate their meals cold, other times they went through freezing nights and their endurance was always tested. Frequently, through that time Harry continued to admire the nature around him, he continued to sit and listen in awe as Gandalf told him a new story, or a story he had heard before; however, he was just as captured every time. Destiny seemed kind to them, they met no further enemies and came through every night and day unscathed. Indeed, they were fortunate.

Running a steady hand through his hair, he couldn't help but to be astonished at how much his hair had grown. Where it earlier had only reached his chin, it now flowed down to rest on his shoulders, the length serving to calm his wild locks down, making it look more manageable.

"Would you give me a hand here, Harry?" Gandalf questioned as they settled down for the night.

Hurriedly, Harry moved to help the old man collect firewood. The air had begun to grow cooler now that fall was at its prime, slowly leaning towards its end and the beginning of winter. Their bonfires had begun to take up more and more wood, increasing in size as the temperature fell.

"Do we afford a large or a small fire tonight?" Harry asked, completely prepared for the prospect of having to shiver in cold through the night.

"I think we'll have a large one this time." Was his reply, as Gandalf lowered himself to the ground, searching through their backpack for some water. "We'll be arriving at Rivendell tomorrow so we'll celebrate our last night alone together with a warm night and meal. Don't you agree with me?"

"A warm night _would_ be nice."

"Very well, then it's decided. I'll go see if I can catch us something to eat." The wizard said, immediately rising to his large, impressive height. "Keep your sword out and remember what I taught you."

"Yes, Yes, I know. 'Never close your eyes in a fight, Harry, for that could lead to your death'," he said, grinning up at the man that towered over him.

Despite his joking manor he pulled out his sword and kept it on him, his right hand straying towards it now and then, caressing it with gentle strokes. If there was one thing the few fights they had gotten into had taught him it was to keep his weapon clean and close. A dirty sword could easily rust and become dull, and a dull weapon was just as dangerous in a battle as fighting without experience was.

Teaching Harry to fight with a sword had been one of the first things Gandalf had done when he'd finally gained the young man's trust. No one could survive out in the wilderness without knowing how to defend themselves and Gandalf, who had years of experience, knew that better than anyone. Luckily, Harry had been a wonderful student who picked things up quite quickly. Granted, he wasn't a master in swordsmanship, his balance wasn't perfect and his speed wass7n't as fast as he would have liked, but he was good enough to defeat orcs, which was all he really needed.

Quickly, he lit the fire, leaning back to watch as it roared to life, crackling and brimming with energy. Warmth spread through him as he settled himself down in front of it, holding his hands forth and rubbing them together to get some warmth into them.

"Oh, we shall feast well tonight, Harry!" Gandalf greeted him, quirking his lips up into a triumphant smile. "A large trout, look at the size of this! I must say, I'm quite proud of myself."

"You did well, Gandalf." He grinned back, watching with fascination as the old man threw the fish around like a child having caught its first fish. Ironically, Harry felt like a proud parent.

That night, Harry went to sleep having eaten a warm meal and being kept warm by the fire. His last night alone with Gandalf very much reminded him of how it felt like when he went to bed after having arrived at Hogwarts for the start of the school year.

It was a feeling that was greatly welcomed.


	3. To Tell Or Not Tell

**Title: **Fighting Another War

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **This chapter contains blood and gore at the very beginning, the rest is safe to read.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **As all of you have probably noticed by now I've decided to have Gandalf teach Harry to fight for himself. Harry isn't the type to be all helpless and damsel in distress like so I've decided when he is in the situation he is he might as well learn how to cut down some orcs on the way. I have to say, it was incredibly satisfying to write him kicking some orc arse instead of having his own rear kicked by one.

I wasn't really sure of what to call this chapter and so I decided to take a leaf out of Shakespear's page and ended up with the title you're able to see down below there. I liked it well enough so that's what you ended up with.

Hope all of you like it!

* * *

_"Our days are a kaleidoscope. Every instant a change takes place." - Henry Ward Beecher, 1813- 1887._

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

**To Tell Or Not Tell, That is The Question**

Snarls and roars surrounded him. Blood flew everywhere as his sword once again pierced his enemy's flesh, cutting through skin and forcing its black, contaminated blood to come forth. His breath came in sharp gasps as he gracefully spun around, fighting several orcs at once. Steadily, he manoeuvred his sword, successfully defending himself and using everything he'd learned from Gandalf.

So close, they were _so_ close, to reaching Rivendell and all that stood between them and their destination were a group of appalling orcs. A sneer of disgust tainted his face as he decapitated an orc that had come up from behind. They fought with no honour, using every dirty trick there was, they disgraced the art of swordsmanship.

The onslaught of new bodies to fight seemed to never stop. Every time he cut one down two would come to replace it. Harry couldn't deny it, a small sense of satisfaction lit up in him every time he watched as the light faded from their yellow eyes. He had never considered himself to be a violent and malicious person, but something in him snapped each time he fought these disgraceful creatures.

The memory of his first encounter with orcs flooded his mind. Blood pooling on the ground, draining from four bodies that lay completely still, each with an axe imbedded in their heads as their faces were permanently fixed in a horrified grimace, their screams had been great. If it hadn't been for Gandalf, there would have been a fifth body on that ground, a fifth body bleeding to death, with cold, green, lifeless eyes.

Viciously, he drove his sword straight through one of the orcs' spine, immediately snapping it in two. Blood flew up in the air, hitting Harry's face and joining the other blood and gore coating his body, none of it was his own.

For a second, Harry turned to watch Gandalf, the wizard was indeed a sight to see, sword raised high up in the air, cutting down any who dared to oppose him, while his staff brought down any who tried to sneak up on him.

With one last admiring look, Harry turned back to his own opponents, continuing where he'd left off. Mercilessly, he cut down body after body, decapitating, piercing hearts and snapping spines in two, he dealt deathblow after deathblow until no one but himself and Gandalf stood victorious.

During their travels they had fought with orcs several times, and Harry had early on learned that it was better to kill than being killed. Orcs were vicious creatures, Gandalf had said, if you didn't cut them down first they would do unimaginable things to you in return. It was a cruel reality. Kill or be mangled.

A black arrow suddenly flew straight by his ear, passing him at an incredible speed and imbedding itself in an orc that had just risen to drive its sword through Harry. A pained shriek erupted into the air before the heavy body hit the ground with a weighty thud.

Abruptly, Harry spun around, staring at the now-dead orc. The arrow stood proudly from its chest, deeply imbedded in its heart only allowing a small amount of blood to spurt out as its fletching lightly fluttered in the wind. Gandalf's relieved chuckle drew his attention elsewhere, compelling his eyes to rip themselves away from the foul sight and instead look at his companion.

"A close call, wouldn't you say so, Harry?" The wizard said, suspiciously looking into the depths of the forest despite the fact that he was addressing Harry.

"Yes, an extremely close call," he replied, wiping some blood off his face before turning to look in the same direction as Gandalf.

There was nothing there, only the everlasting forest could be seen. The world seemed to stand still as they closely studied the canvas that was their surroundings. No sign of life, except for the slight flutters the wind created, indicated that the world was alive.

"Well then, let's get going, shall we?" Gandalf suddenly spoke, stepping over a dead orc as if stepping over a log.

"Wait-what?!" Harry burst out, spinning around to stare at the old man in disbelief. "We're not going to see who it is?"

"Now why would we do that, Harry? The person obviously doesn't want to be found, and I am quite confident that he or she will be revealed to us in time."

"But-"

"No, Harry, we will continue on our way and that is final!" Gandalf harshly interrupted.

Immediately, Harry backed down, there was no arguing with Gandalf when he used that tone. All he could do was to retreat and obey. With one last lingering look at the forest, Harry wiped clean his sword and roughly sheathed it. Gracefully, he manoeuvred himself around the many bodies that lay scattered on the ground, not even sparing them a glance.

"Then let's go." Irritation was heavy in his voice as he looked up at his companion.

Without another glimpse backwards they travelled onward, not at all affected by the gruesome sight the bloody scene before them made, one learned to accept such things after having been through them several times. Bloodshed was something Harry had learned to handle after some time of travelling with Gandalf. Orcs seemed to seek them out and left them no other choice but to kill. They were in a war and a violent one at that.

Reality had finally, after several years of believing it to be better than it was, caught up with him and it was merciless in showing how cruel it could really be. It was a shame, Harry thought, that it had taken a journey to another world to shake him out of his dream world. Truthfully a shame.

A violent shiver raced up and down his spine, making him aware of a pair of eyes following his every movement. They seemed to send waves of ice towards him, bringing forth goose bumps on his flesh, raising the hair on the back of his neck and downright alarming him. There was something about it that served to remind him of his encounters with dementors, the same chilly feeling captured his body, ceasing him and nearly making him unable to move. Harry could easily admit that he was blatantly terrified of dementors, and so, if the thing staring at him was anything like them...he would never want to encounter them.

"Something wrong Harry?" Gandalf asked when he noticed his companion's slow pace.

Abruptly, the chilly feeling disappeared.

"Nothing...nothing's wrong."

* * *

Complete and utter awe filled Harry as he stared at the sight in front of him. He had never seen such beauty before; such magnificence had never been before him except for his first time seeing Hogwarts. Rivendell was truly a sight to behold.

Despite it being surrounded by the overpowering walls of the valley it resided in, Lord Elrond's house managed to outshine the beauty of its surroundings. Stone pillars stretched up into the air supporting the beautiful structure that was Elrond's domain. Graceful archways could be seen everywhere, blending naturally with the vegetation and yet, managing to stand out beautifully. Now that he thought about it, Rivendell easily surpassed Hogwarts in splendour.

The place seemed to be streaming with creatures that could only be elves. Gandalf's descriptions of them had been vague at the most, the old man preferred to focus on the happenings rather than the details when he told a story, and so only their pointed ears and their unnatural beauty and grace informed Harry of their species.

Several times he had caught them looking at him in amazement, their lovely features seemed to light up in curiosity and realisation as their blue eyes, they all seemed to have either blue or grey eyes, followed him closely, inspecting him with a mixture of cautiousness and intrigue. Harry felt like an exotic and rare creature on display. Not an exquisite feeling.

Cautiously, Harry followed behind Gandalf, using the wizard as a shield when the stares started to get _too_ fascinated. He had never been one to enjoy attention, he had always been content to just stay in the shadows and give the glory to others, but sadly that had never worked, and it didn't seem as if it would now either.

Attention, Harry mused, was the worst thing a person could bring upon themselves. It encouraged other people to envy you; it encouraged them to hate you, to plot against you so they could get the same amount of attention as you did. Attention was what had led to Harry's less than perfect life, it was what had led to the split between him and the Wizarding society. None, other than Hermione, Ron and the Order of the Phoenix, could truly be trusted; he always had to expect to be stabbed in the back. Harry hated it.

Harry couldn't escape it.

He would have given anything to be able to live a normal life, he passionately longed for an escape from life, yet, he couldn't get one. Not even in his sleep could he escape. After four years of constantly fighting it, Harry had learned to accept it. He had learned to deal with everything the world had to throw at him, but even the most enduring man had to have some reprieve.

"Harry?" Gandalf's voice suddenly shook him out of his thoughts, serving to bring him back to reality.

"Hmm?" Harry answered as his eyes swerved up to clash with his companions grey depths.

"I was just introducing you to Lord Elrond."

Immediately, Harry looked in the direction Gandalf indicated, and sure enough, there stood a dark haired elf. Where the other elves had been beautiful, nearly bordering feminine in the males' case, Elrond seemed to emit beauty of another kind. A long straight nose and high sturdy cheek bones seemed to rule the face; it drew attention to it and served to give off an aristocratic air. Grey eyes softened the elf's features immensely, wisdom shone in the depth of the deep pools giving off the impression that this was someone to ask for advice. In the end, Harry didn't quite know whether to call him beautiful or handsome, he was a mixture of both.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you." Elrond's deep and fierce voice rang in his ears, the elf sounded like a man that was used to give commands, commands that were obeyed. Grey eyes lit up with the same realisation as the other elves had had; intrigued they traced up and down Harry's form, seemingly contemplating something before returning to his face, a satisfied glint to them.

"Likewise..." Harry hesitantly replied, his deep, green eyes darting from the elf lord to his travelling companion.

"Your arrival has been long foretold and I must say that seeing you here in front of me is quite unreal." The elf continued, eyes digging into Harry's own. "And that you would be...how astonishing. He must be told."

"Pardon me, I would be what? Who must be told?" Harry rudely questioned, his features set into a determined mask as he questioningly stared at Elrond.

"That will have to be for another time; right now we have more important issues to deal with." The elf lord replied, easily dismissing his questions.

"Gandalf," he continued, turning to face the old wizard," they have arrived."

"They have?!" Gandalf answered, surprise etched into his features. "So fast?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid some complications arose along the journey." A grave tension settled in the air then, both Gandalf and Elrond looked extremely uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. "He's gravely injured, one of the Nazguls managed to drive their sword through him."

"Show him to me!"

Everything seemed to blend into one as they hastily followed the elf lord, archways, elves and gardens they all became a blur. He had never seen Gandalf so...so panicked, so desperate and worried. The wizard had always been composed, always managing to hide his shock, his anger and his worry, and to see him like this, so distraught was an unnerving sight to behold.

With an abruptness that startled him, they came to a stop in a hall, right in front of a heavy wooden door. It creaked and complained as Elrond pushed it open, despite the fact that the door looked brand new, one could easily see that it had been there for as long as Rivendell had stood.

Stepping out of the barely lit hallway and into the room before him, Harry couldn't help but to allow his eyes to wander. It was a large room, only furnished by a great queen sized bed, a white, comfortable looking chair beside said bed and a large, sturdy looking dresser. A window decorated the right wall, letting in the settling sun and painting the room with the barely there sunrays. It was quite stunning, but what really drew Harry's attention was the little creature occupying the bed.

A small head, blooming with brown, luscious locks peeked out from under the many layers of fabric draped over the bed. Pale, almost an unnatural shade of white, skin could barely be distinguished from the white bed sheets. Small, curiously pointed ears stuck out amongst wild hair. Harry had no doubt that if the eyes had been open he would have been met with the most innocent stare he had ever seen. This was a hobbit. This little creature was something he had wanted to see ever since Gandalf had told him about them, and this little one was on the brink of death. The rising of the hobbit's chest was barely there, almost nonexistent and the way it seemed to rise slower and slower worried Harry like nothing else. He could practically see the grim reaper readying his scythe for one last deathly blow.

"Gandalf!" He suddenly said green eyes fixed on the haunting scene before him. "We need to do something... h-he's about to die."

"What?" Gandalf questioned, sharp eyes swerving around to clash with Harry's. "What do you mean 'about to die'?"

"I mean exactly what I'm saying! His life is literally being drained out of him as we speak!" Harry replied, panicked eyes constantly following the up and downs of the hobbit's little chest.

Instantly, Lord Elrond was on the move, the elf's hands moved with a swiftness and gracefulness Harry had never before seen. A warm, large hand settled heavily down on his shoulder, gently guiding Harry out of the room and leaving Elrond in peace to work on his own. There was nothing neither he nor Gandalf could do for the little hobbit other than allowing his healer to concentrate without any disturbances.

"Will he be alright?" Harry anxiously inquired, glancing at the wizard guiding him. "I mean...h-he won't die, will he?"

"No, I believe that in the skilled hands of Lord Elrond, Frodo will be perfectly fine." Gandalf reassured, gently squeezing Harry's shoulder as his grey eyes twinkled with knowledge.

"He will be as good as new."

* * *

A thrilled laughter rang through the air, joining the peaceful whisper of the wind and the jubilant songs of the birds. The sound resonated off of the sturdy stone walls, bringing the gleeful music further into the various halls that were the house of Elrond, filling the sensitive ears of the elves that dwelled there. It was not an uncommon occurrence, quite the opposite really.

Grey clouds obscured the sky, tainting the usually blue heavens and hiding the sun from sight as six figures occupied Lord Elrond's garden. Joy flooded through him as he, for the sixth (or was it the seventh?) time, listened to the many stories Bilbo Baggins had to tell. A hand reached up to drag through his hair as he focused all his attention on the elderly hobbit, absently smiling down as Frodo tightened the grip he had on his hand.

As the days and weeks had passed by he had become quite attached to the group of hobbits. He never said no to a little mischievous time with Merry and Pippin, always ready to listen to Bilbo's adventures( no matter how many times he'd heard them by now), never denied when Sam wanted to sit with him in the library and he always had time to spare when Frodo asked. He found that all his time, except for when he was researching, went by with his new friends. And he found that he was quite content with that arrangement.

It brought some sense of calmness into his rather illogic life.

"Harry!" Gandalf's voice suddenly rang, bringing everyone's attention on him rather than Bilbo.

"Harry!" The wizard repeated, storming forward at a speed that belied his age.

Rising up to his feet, Harry turned to face his companion, lips quirked up at the corners, serving to produce a small smile. "Yes?" He questioned.

"I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure to be a rather thrilling story, but I'm afraid that Lord Elrond has requested to see you." He said, smiling brilliantly. "And he was rather adamant that I bring you to him the moment I saw you."

"Ah, we can't keep our lord waiting, now can we?" Harry replied, directing an apologetic smile towards the hobbits.

"No, no, nothing good has ever come of that." Gandalf said, grinning at his fellow wizard.

With one last goodbye to the hobbits, Harry turned to follow Gandalf as the old man began walking back in the direction he'd come from. Through halls and gardens, passing archways and pillars they walked, not once pausing to admire the riches before them.

Finally, as they passed a beautiful statue of a maiden, they reached their destination, only halting to briefly knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Gandalf effortlessly opened the sturdy wooden door that separated Elrond's study from the hall. They were greeted by the sight of a pacing Elrond, not an unusual sight to see on occasions, the elf lord seemed to turn to pacing when his brilliant mind was filled to the brim. It was something Harry, before he had gotten to know the elf, never would have believed him to do, and with good reason too, since at times the dark haired male could give off a vibe that made people think him above everything mere mortals did. In other words, they vastly overrated him.

Absentmindedly, Harry stared at the various cracks, which had developed over many years, in the stone walls that formed Elrond's study. There was no doubt that Rivendell had long resisted the weight of time, but everything, no matter how long it took, eventually broke, crushed flat and left in ruins. Just like humans they tired, falling under the constant pressure of time. Time, Harry mused, was the only enemy he would willingly admit defeat to. Not Voldemort, not fate, not even death would he yield to, he would face them all and spit right in their faces and refuse to give up.

"Have you told him?" Elrond's voice suddenly sounded as the elf halted his pacing, turning to face the new arrivals.

"No, and you won't either, not until they've met and it's confirmed." Gandalf replied, his deep voice heavy with seriousness. "I won't put him through that unless we're absolutely certain."

"Certain?!" Elrond snarled eyes alight with fierce determination and indignation. "Of course we're certain! He reeks of him; each one of us can smell it!"

"He won't be informed unless he stakes his claim!" The old wizard roared back, clenching his staff tightly in his fist, turning his knuckles white and revealing his anger.

"Pardon me, but _he_, and I assume it's me you're referring to, is standing right here!" Harry interrupted them both, forcefully making himself noticed and breaking his way into their conversation. He didn't care how rude it was, they were talking about him and as it was his life he had every right to be a part of the discussion.

"You see, Gandalf, the boy can handle it." Elrond turned triumphant eyes upon his opponent." It is better for him to know and be prepared rather than the truth to be sprung upon him in the worst of moments."

"As competent as I know Harry to be, I still say it is better for them to meet and confirm it before we say anything." Gandalf replied, moving his grey eyes to fix a worried gaze upon Harry.

"Once again," Harry said, glaring at the two infront of him. "I point out the fact that Harry is standing right infront of you, wondering what the bloody hell is going on!"

"What's going on, Harry, is a discussion lord Elrond and I have had ever since I introduced you to him." The grey bearded wizard replied, sighing as he moved a wrinkled hand up to rub at his temples, as if to knead a headache away. "And it is something I prefer not to burden you with. You have far too much on your mind already; I fear it would not be good for your health should you have more to fret about. "

"But-"

"No, Harry, you will be told in time and not a second before, I will hear nothing more of it." Gandalf cut him off, moving to guide Harry to one of the chairs occupying the room. "Now, shall we, perhaps, discuss the real reason why we're here?"

"Ah, yes of course." Elrond replied, following the two wizards and settling himself down in his usual seat.

"As you probably have been told by Gandalf, Harry, this land is in a war, a war that has lain dormant, until now. Movements from Mordor have made us weary again and so therefore I have summoned people from all corners of middle-earth to a council, I would like you to join in on it." The lord finished, looking straight into Harry's green eyes as he did so.

"You're asking me to join your council?" Harry questioned, surprise coating his voice, disbelief marring his features.

"Yes," Elrond answered in an impatient voice. "Will you accept or not?"

"Of course," he replied immediately, completely forgetting his earlier thoughts of trying to bring up their previous discussion. "When is it?"

"The day after tomorrow, I'll send someone to get you when it's time."


	4. Secrets & Revelations

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning:** No warnings in this chapter.

**Disclaimer:**_ Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N:** I don't really have that much I want to point out in this chapter so I'll just leave you all to it!

Enjoy my lovelies!

* * *

_"Three can keep a secret if two are dead." - Benjamin Franklin, 1706- 1790. _

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

**Secrets & Revelations**

A powerful thrill swept through his body and rocked his entire being as he once again parried a powerful blow delivered to him by Gandalf. Blood rushed through his veins as adrenaline continuously pumped through his body, sharpening his reflexes and making him more aware of his surroundings.

It was thrilling to be so in control, to have so much power over his own body, over all his and his sword's movements. The fact that he could parry every blow sent at him, that he managed to stand on, more or less, equal foot in battle with his own teacher, was a feat that served to make his pride bloom into a glorious flower.

A small grin made its way onto his face as he sped forwards, subtly changing the angle of his sword and swiftly thrusting it forward. A choked cry of surprise escaped him as Gandalf unexpectedly stepped to the side, twirling around, grabbing his arm in a strong lock and mercilessly holding his sword against Harry's neck.

"Do you yield?" The wizard inquired, eyes twinkling with the rush of battle.

"Alright, I give up." Harry answered, sighing as the sword at his vulnerable throat was removed. "Your age deceives, Gandalf. One would think you to be thirty years old, not...whatever years you are."

"And my age will remain a mystery for all of times, Harry." Gandalf replied, violently grinning from ear to ear. "Not even the most excruciating torture could get it out of me; no, that secret I shall take with me to my grave."

"You do that," Harry said, running a steady hand through his hair as he began to walk away from their training field, in the direction of his rooms. "Tell me how it goes, will you?"

"Yes, of course, I'll make sure to write you a letter, as I cry out in unimaginable pain; do excuse me if there are some bloodstains on it, I imagine that it is a terribly difficult task to keep the paper clean." The wizard merrily shouted after him, watching as the young man moved further and further away from him and going on as if they were having a perfectly normal conversation.

And they were. Harry and Gandalf had, ever since they'd met, managed to make the most horrifying conversations seem like normal ones. They didn't like talking about the weather; they didn't like talking about how their day had been. No, Harry and Gandalf enjoyed bizarre conversations. In fact, they enjoyed it so much that not a day went by without them having one, it was an unspoken rule that at least once, maybe two, times a day they would speak utter nonsense. And they thrived with it.

A cool wind, swept over him as he made his way through the halls of Rivendell, passing several elves, both blond and dark, on his way. With practiced movements, he reached up, running his fingers over his temples and attempted, without any luck, to will his headache away. For two days now Imladris, as the elves called it, had been occupied by men, dwarves and elves, whom had from afar, all for the same purpose. And during those two days, 48 dismal hours, Harry had been living with a pounding headache, all because of the hostility between the elves and the dwarves.

Just as Harry had befriended some of the elves in Rivendell, he had also befriended the group of dwarves that had arrived; thusly he was in the middle of a war, a very heated war. He didn't regret his decision, per say, but he did wonder what on earth he had been thinking when he'd willingly put himself in the middle of it. Not the wisest decision he'd made in his life, surely.

Making as little noise as possible, Harry turned the corner, making sure not to trip over the slightly raised floor and taking the hallway going right instead of left. Harry didn't think of himself as a stupid person, he had never thought himself to be dim-witted, so why on earth he hadn't noticed the sparks flying between the group of dwarves and the gang of elves he had no idea. It was as if it had flown straight over his head, informing everyone but him.

At least, Gimli, son of Glóin, the leader of the dwarves, didn't expect him to join a side as all the others had. He was perfectly content to just spend time with him without insulting elves and without interrogating Harry of what he felt about them; yes, conversations with Gimli could be both relaxing and stimulating. A small smile spread on his face as he thought about the loud snort or scoff an elf would have made, should they have heard his thoughts.

With a steady hand, he forcefully pushed at his door, slowly opening it and stepping inside. Immediately, he headed for the bathroom. There was nothing more he wanted than a warm, relaxing bath to wash away all the sweat that had gathered when he was training with Gandalf. To his surprise, the tub was already filled to the brim with steaming hot water.

Swiftly, he stripped himself of all his clothes, carefully stepping into the tub and lowered himself with a pleasured moan. He had always enjoyed hot, steaming baths, whenever he could get one, that is. They always served to loosen up his stiff muscles and joints, always served to give him some relaxation; somewhat making up for all the nights he had gone without sleep.

Oh yes, he was still haunted by nightmares. Voldemort had never stopped torturing him, even if he was in a new world. Their connection had never weakened. The link had never faltered and it always served to show him some of the gruesome scenes of Voldemort torturing, mangling and killing. The one thing from his world that he would have preferred being without, was the only thing that had followed him into this one.

No one could say that Harry was especially lucky.

A soft knock on the bathroom door shook him out of his thoughts, forcing him to push them back in his mind to bring forth another time. Submerging himself until only his head was over the waters surface, Harry shouted for his visitor to come in.

"Pardon me, my lord, but Lord Elrond wishes for you to meet him in the west garden." A young she-elf said, keeping her eyes closely locked on the floor, not once glancing up to meet Harry's eyes.

"Thank you."

* * *

"You're late!" Elrond's voice boomed, ringing out into the air and drawing attention to the figure trying to sneak inside unnoticed.

Sheepishly, Harry rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, turning to face the elf glaring at him. "Well you see it's not easy to find a place when you don't know where is."

"And asking someone for directions never came to mind?" the lord scoffed, eyes drilling into Harry's before he turned away. "Go to your seat."

Barely holding back the childish urge to stick his tongue out at the elf, Harry made his way to the vacant seat between Gandalf and Frodo, greeting them both with a small whisper before turning his attention to what was going on around him.

Elrond stood, as regal as ever, in the middle of the room, drawing everyone's attention away from the young wizard and onto himself. A grave expression tainted his handsome features, revealing exactly how serious their situation was. No one moved or spoke. They all waited, with baited breath, for the dark-haired male to begin.

He didn't disappoint. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have all been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor."Elrond said, looking at each and every one of them with a serious glint in his eyes.

"Middle-earth stands on the brink of destruction, no one can escape it. Either we unite or we fall." He continued, taking a step backwards and easing himself down into the throne like chair seated behind him. "Each race is bound to this fate—this one doom."

Pausing, the elf folded his hands, gracefully lacing his fingers together and acting as if he had all the time in the world. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Glancing at the hobbit beside him, Harry patiently waited as Frodo shuffled slightly in his seat before stepping forward, tightly gripping something hanging around his neck. A shiver raced up and down his spine as a chain was lifted up over Frodo's head, revealing to them all a small golden ring dangling innocently from it. Closely, he studied it. Running his eyes over every curve, every detail, in his opinion it was quite simple, nothing to behold, nothing to fear. But the aura it emitted...

It screamed malicious intent.

Instinctively, Harry shifted closer to Gandalf, seeking the older wizard for comfort. Harry had never been one to cower infront of evil, he had never been one to back down when faced with danger, but there was something about that ring that chilled his insides, that sent wave after wave of unrelenting fear through him. How Frodo could stand to have it around his throat, so close to his heart, he couldn't understand.

"So it is true..." A man across Harry spoke up as his grey eyes furiously traced every contours of the golden jewellery lying in the middle of the room.

Abruptly, the man rose to his feet, drawing himself up to his full height, tilting his chin upwards indicating that this was a proud man, a man used to being obeyed. Confidently, he took a step forward, then another one, steadily making his way towards the Ring. His whole being seemed to radiate eagerness and triumph.

"In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the west a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: 'Your doom is at hand.'" Finally, the man managed to rip his obsessed eyes away from the Ring, turning to meet Harry's glowing, emerald orbs. Pain and desperation seemed to linger in his grey eyes; a battle seemed to be ripping him apart from the inside, slowly destroying him. It was clear to Harry that Boromir would have to be watched when in the presence of Sauron's ring. "Isildur's bane is found."

Abruptly, he reached forward, his hand hovering over the Ring for a minute before it shakily descended, itching to wrap around the cold gold that made up the Ring, longing to own it, to use it.

Chaos erupted as both Elrond and Gandalf jumped up from their seats, rage written clearly across their faces as they approached the man.

"Boromir!" Elrond's voice boomed, echoing off of the walls surrounding them.

Shivers rocked his body as Gandalf's deep voice spoke in a language he had never heard before. Shadows grew at an alarming rate, coating the whole room in darkness and revealing exactly how powerful the old man really was.

The elves in the room immediately reached up to cover their ears; grimaces of pain marred their beauty as Gandalf's voice grew in volume. The Ring seemed to sing as the whole world froze, thriving as every being in the room seemed to shrink away from the wizard standing tall in the middle of the room.

Abruptly, it all ended. The world once again began moving and the sun seemed to have finally broken through the sea of shadows that had filled the room. A sigh of relief escaped him as Boromir stumbled back to his chair, shock plainly shown on his face.

"The Ring is pure evil," Gandalf said, fiercely staring at the man he had just faced." We cannot use it."

A stunned silence filled the room as Gandalf slowly walked back to his seat, his staff tightly clutched in his right hand. Grey eyes were alight with worry, glancing back at Boromir now and then.

Just as Harry had, Gandalf had also noticed Boromir's unhealthy reaction towards the Ring. They had both noticed the possessive glint that filled the man's eyes as he stared at the Ring. They had both noticed how the man was practically salivating at the prospect of controlling and using the Ring. Harry knew perfectly well that Boromir's intentions were good, but the Ring had already managed to sneak its way into his mind, tainting him and ruling over him. Boromir was already under the Ring's, and thusly Sauron's, control.

Unease filled Harry as he warily watched the various people that made up the council. Six elves, with the exception of Elrond, was seated on the left of Gandalf, two dwarves, Gimli and his father, were seated to their left, and two men, Boromir and a man the hobbit's had called Strider, were seated by their side.

The elves, all with an unearthly perfection about them, were all watching those surrounding them, carefully inspecting them while at the same time paying attention to Lord Elrond's words. The dwarves were disdainfully glaring at the elves they were forced to sit with, only once or twice turning their gaze to meet with Harry's. And the two men, unlike the others, just sat there, devoting all their attention to Elrond, Boromir commenting now and then.

It was all a play, Harry mused. They were all playing their parts perfectly, even if they didn't know it. They were all marionettes, gently guided along by the strings of their puppeteer. Slowly, his lips quirked upwards into a small smile, watching as Gimli sent a particularly vicious glare at a blond elf. Yes, it was a play with real life puppets. And everyone, including Harry, was following the manuscript to the point.

Out of nowhere, one of the elves, the one Gimli had been so fiercely glaring at, jumped to his feet, facing Boromir as his blond hair flied about him as he snarled, "This is no mere ranger, he is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance!"

Apparently, Harry had missed a lot during his musings.

"This... is Isildur's heir?" Boromir asked, turning around to stare at Aragorn in disbelief. "This is the man I am to call my king?!"

"No," He growled, pinning Aragorn with furious glare as he slowly stalked closer to the man. "I shall never bow to a mere ranger like you!"

"Havo dad, Legolas," Aragorn calmly said, motioning for the fierce tempered elf to go back to his seat as his eyes followed Boromir's movements.

A tense silence followed as Boromir stalked Aragorn like a predator closing in on its prey. "Gondor has no king, Gondor needs no king!"

With those last words, Boromir moved back to his own seat, throwing one last glare at Aragorn before completely ignoring him. It was what Harry thought a very childish way for a grown man to act. But then again, weren't they all childish when faced with something they didn't want to face?

Glancing at the elf that had so fiercely stood up for Aragorn, Harry was shocked to meet with a pair of the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. The elf seemed to stare right through him, looking at his very soul, seeing everything Harry had to offer. A pleasant shiver raced up his spine and spread through the rest of his body as those blue eyes traced up and down his body, alight with appreciation and realisation.

Horrified at the feelings that welled up in him, Harry averted his eyes, successfully breaking eye contact, and instead focused on what was going on around him. And just in time too, for the moment he turned his eyes away Gimli had jumped up from his chair, axe raised high up in the air as he allowed a battle cry to flow from his throat and across his lips, running straight at the Ring.

It didn't work.

A large chunk of metal was sent flying his way as the axe was shattered to several pieces and Gimli was sent flying to the ground. Without thinking, Harry threw himself down to the ground barely avoiding being hit by the deadly projectile. With a grunt, Harry pushed himself up from the stone floor, sending a small glare in Gimli's direction before brushing off his clothes.

"Good reflexes there, Harry." Gandalf said, gently patting his shoulder as he seated himself beside the wizard.

"Thank you," Harry replied, turning his attention towards Elrond as if nothing had happened.

With one last lingering look at Harry, Elrond turned to face Gimli. "The Ring cannot be destroyed by any weapon we have here, Gimli, son of Glóin. The Ring was forged in the fires of Mount Doom and only there can it be destroyed." Pausing for a moment, the dark haired elf allowed his eyes to trail over the figures before him. "One of you must do this."

A loud snort erupted from Boromir then. "One does not simply _walk_ into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, the great Eye is ever watchful." With grace, Boromir pushed himself out of his seat, facing them all as he continued. "It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume, not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"

Harry couldn't have agreed more. It would be foolish to think that they could just walk straight into Mordor without any troubles whatsoever. It was plain stupid to think that they could, with Sauron's most precious ring, get into a land such as that without being discovered. It...It just wasn't a great strategy.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?!" Legolas indignantly cried, leaping to his feet with unnatural grace. "The Ring must be destroyed!"

And then there was that. Just as the elf had pointed out, the Ring had to be destroyed, it had to be thrown into the fires of Mount Doom, it had to be kept away from the enemy at all cost and because of that, no matter how foolish it was, they had to get into Mordor. They had no other choice. It was either that or perish.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?!" Gimli roared, joining the argument against the elf as any hot tempered dwarf would have.

Blazing fury lit up in Legolas' eyes as he faced the short dwarf, drawing himself up to his full height, tilting his chin slightly upwards and looking down upon the dwarf. The air seemed to crackle with electricity around them as they glared at each other, displaying exactly how much hate the two races held for each other.

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!" the red haired dwarf growled as he was joined by his father, successfully starting uproar.

Insults flew everywhere as the whole council joined the argument. Eyes were tainted by fury, practically drilling holes into the ones their owners were arguing with. Even Gandalf had decided to join the ruckus; his deep, booming voice could easily be heard and recognized amongst the others.

With a small sigh, Harry reached over to Frodo, grabbing the hobbits hand, lightly squeezing it to comfort the little man. The small, almost unnoticeable squeeze he got back made him aware of Frodo's state of mind. The hobbit seemed to be deep in thought, his icy blue eyes traced over the arguing group as his mind worked with great efficiency. Harry could feel it the moment Frodo had made up his mind.

Standing up, his hand still interlaced with Harry's, Frodo faced the group in front of them head on, squaring his shoulders backwards, puffing his chest out as he drew a deep breath. "I will take it!" He timidly shouted to no avail.

Grasping Harry's hand a little tighter, the little man tried once more. "I will take it!!"

Slowly, the ruckus calmed down as they all turned to face the small, brave hobbit. Astonished faces was what made up the group, several eyebrows were raised in surprise as many eyes traced up and down Frodo's small frame.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though...I do not know the way..."

With a small smile on his face, Harry rose up from his seat, drawing attention to himself and still holding onto Frodo's clam and sweaty hand. "Are you sure about this, Frodo?" He whispered as he lowered himself to the young hobbit's level.

A jerky nod was his only answer.

"Alright," Harry replied, stepping forward to stand on Frodo's right. "I'll be joining you then."

* * *

Darkness coated the halls of Rivendell as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Shadows twisted and danced as Harry walked, a candle in his hand, from the dining hall towards his room. A small sigh escaped him as he ran his hand gently through his unruly hair, desperately trying to smooth it out with no luck. It was perhaps the only thing he hated about his appearance, despite the fact that it was the same hair as his father had once had, well, that and his short, fragile looking stature.

Out of nowhere, a pair of voices invaded his ears, drawing his interest and waking his curiosity. Cautiously, Harry made his way towards the voices, moving as quietly as he could. It was in moments like these that he really missed his invisibility cloak.

"No... I don't...You know as well as I do..." It was muffled but Harry could clearly distinct Gandalf as one of the persons talking.

Walking up to the door the voices came from; Harry tightly pressed himself up against the door, doing so without any sound and with baited breath. He still hadn't managed to stop his bad habit of listening at the doors; listening to conversations he had no right of knowing.

"He needs to know, Gandalf!" Elrond's voice rang, reaching Harry's ears as clear as it would have had Harry been in the room. "It is confirmed; _he_ came and informed me of it himself!"

"We cannot tell him...Harry isn't from this world, you know this as well as I do, why put them through the struggle, the pain that is sure to come?!" Gandalf replied, sounding tired.

"It would not be worth it without struggle. There is a reason Harry is here, he was _meant_ to be here. Why are you so disinclined to believe that _this_ could be that reason?!"

"Because—" suddenly Gandalf cut himself off.

The sound of shuffling reached his ears and just as he was about to pull back and get out of sight the door was wrenched open. Losing his balance Harry tumbled forward, crying out as he hit the floor, hard.

"What do we have here?" Gandalf questioned, looking down upon Harry as on hand calmly stroked through his beard. "Eavesdropping, are we, Harry?"

Wincing, Harry quickly stumbled to his feet, righting himself up to guiltily look at the wizard.

"I was just curious," He answered, restlessly shifting from one foot to the other, in that moment he would have given anything to be able to make himself invisible. "No harm done, right?"

"That depends..." Elrond cut in, glaring down at the youth standing in front of him. "How much did you hear?"

"Not much, just that someone's confirmed something and Gandalf doesn't want me to know what." He replied, facing the elf head on, he would not back down; yes, he was at fault for listening in on a private conversation, but it was something that concerned him so, to be fair, he actually had the right to listen.

"Ah, then I believe it is safe to release you." Gandalf said, a small smile quirking his lips upwards as a small glint of mischievousness lit up his eyes. "Go on, get to bed. It is important for you to get enough rest if you're going to be coming with us on this journey."

"Alright," Harry replied, eyes narrowing as he recognized the glint in Gandalf's eyes. "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight."


	5. Misery Loves Company

**Title: **Fighting Another war

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Nothing much to warn about here.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **Here we are again, my dear readers. Harry is still in Middle-Earth, you are still entranced by what is to happen next and I am still addicted to writing this story. I feel that this chapter, though some things do happen, is mostly a filler. It gives us an insight in Harry's life in Rivendell and how his relationship with the others in the Fellowship is. I have done my best, as I always do, to portray everything in the most realistic way as is possible and hopefully I have succeeded in this.

Relish in chapter 5, my dearies!

* * *

_"The only way to avoid being miserable is not to have enough leisure to wonder whether you are happy or not." - George Bernard Shaw, 1856 - 1950._

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

**Misery Loves Company**

Dark and grey clouds occupied the sky as the light patter of rain falling to the ground filled his ears. The world seemed to have come to a stop as hobbits, elves, dwarves and men kept inside, preferring to stay in their warm and cosy homes rather than being soaked outside.

With a blanket tightly wrapped around him, Harry sat inside Elrond's library, leaning his head against the window as he gazed out at the stormy sky. The occasional boom of thunder and the flash of lightning did nothing to bother him; in fact, it was a slight comfort to watch as the weather gods raged. It was a comfort to know that even though he was in a new world some things still hadn't changed.

Shifting slightly, he lifted his feet up from the cold stone floor, tucking them into his chest as he lightly wrapped his arms around them. The cool feel of the glass against his forehead sent shivers through his body, still, he didn't move. A book carelessly lay by his side; face down so no one could see what the raven haired male had been reading.

A bored sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth his blanket had to offer. Winter had abruptly come upon them, coating the trees with white snow, freezing the various streams that came down from the mountains surrounding Rivendell and forcing them all to wear thicker and warmer clothes.

A month.

A month had passed by since the council of Elrond had been. For weeks Harry had locked himself up in Elrond's study, constantly reading through books, desperately searching for any means that he could use to get back home. He hadn't spoken to anyone in ages; he only emerged from the room for necessities such as food, baths and to relieve himself. He had basically turned the library into his own personal residence, as he was always sleeping inside it.

Memories of his friends constantly haunted him, never giving him any peace and always encouraging him in his frantic search for a solution. And now, after a whole month of searching, he realized that it was all for naught. There was nothing in Elrond's library that could help him; there was no book, no parchment that contained the answers he so fervently longed for. And so it was with a defeated air about him that Harry for the first time in weeks just sat there, not reading, just observing everything around him.

"I see you've given up." Gandalf's familiar voice suddenly rang through the room, closing in on Harry with a sad note about it.

"Yes, there's nothing here." Harry replied, still not looking away from the view in front of him.

"Ah," The older wizard hummed as he dragged a chair with him, joining Harry beside the window.

No other words were uttered, no condolences were offered, only the silent comfort of having another's presence by his side. It was, Harry mused, nice to finally have some company after all that time alone. It was pleasant to just sit there, not speaking but just soaking up each other's warmth and company. Silence was something Harry had become used to by now.

"Mirkwood has a rather large collection of books." Gandalf suddenly said, breaking the silence as he lightly tugged and caressed his own beard.

"That may be right, but I don't have the connections needed to get access to that collection…" Harry trailed off, leaving the words hanging in the air before he said, "besides, we're leaving in a month, aren't we? I don't have the time to go to Mirkwood, find what I need (if it's even there) and get back here."

"Legolas is from Mirkwood." Gandalf carelessly threw in the air.

"Who?"

"Legolas, the elf that joined the Fellowship," The wizard explained.

"Ah, but even so," Harry said, remembering the elf that had stared at him with such appreciation and turned slightly so his eyes could lock with those of Gandalf, "my problems will have to wait."

Another large boom erupted from the sky as two large clouds crashed with each other, causing an enormous explosion. The wind picked up slightly, sending rain drops whipping towards Harry, the only thing protecting him from the onslaught was the window glass. Trees swung from side to side, leafless and as naked as a new born baby.

"The hobbits, especially Frodo, have been asking for you. They're worried." Gandalf stated, sensing the fact that their previous subject was no longer up for discussion.

"Hmm…I'll be joining you for dinner tonight; I'll speak with them then." Harry answered, his lips quirking upwards in a smile, the first one in weeks.

"Good."

Without another word, Gandalf rose from his seat, grabbing the staff he had left leaning against one of the shelves and left, leaving Harry on his own.

And the world was once again drenched in silence.

* * *

Shadows danced and twisted in the light of the torches hanging on the walls. Darkness ruled as the sun had finally relinquished its hold. Night creatures crawled out of their hiding places. Wolves howled to the night as they joined together under the full moon.

A small smile lightened up Harry's features as he walked, with a light skip to his feet, towards the dining hall. Laughter and the buzzing of voices filled his ears as he came closer and closer. A little ray of light came from the halfway open door, revealing the warmth and liveliness that was inside the large room.

Roaring fires, tins of ale and people everywhere were what greeted him as he took a step into the room. To the right elves were gathered, eating with grace and only allowing small reserved smiles to come forth on their faces. In the middle of the room, dwarves and men sat gathered, roaring with laughter and freely expressing their joy. Many of them, Harry thought, had to be intoxicated. To the far left of the room, a little isolated from it all, the hobbit's and Gandalf sat, having a small, merry party of their own.

Merry and Pippin were up on the table dancing and singing, occasionally running over to the middle of the room to entertain those lingering there. Sam and Frodo sat a little timidly in their chairs, both with a small cup of ale each, looking at their fellow hobbits' antics with open amusement. Gandalf and Bilbo, however, looked to be immersed in a quite serious conversation. Worry painted Gandalf's old features as Bilbo fervently spoke, jerking in anger now and then.

Unaware of the attention his entrance had gained, Harry immediately made his way towards the left of the room. He much preferred to be in the company of the hobbit's rather than the loud men and dwarves or the aloof, almost pompous elves.

"Harry!" Merry and Pippin shouted in a chorus, surprise etched into their faces as they ran towards him with great speed.

The moment Harry was within reach, they latched onto him, dragging him with them and shouting, "Music! We need music!"

With a bemused grimace, Harry watched as one of the elves moved from his seat, heading over to a cluster of instruments that were positioned on the other side of the room, quite closely to where the hobbits were seated.

"May I have this dance, my fair lord?" Pippin bowed just as the music began, a mischievous glint in his eyes as a silly grin forced its way onto his face.

"What?" Harry spluttered in shock.

"Dance with me, I haven't seen you in a month, you have a lot of time and dances to repay!" The hobbit passionately stated, grabbing Harry's hand with his and, before the wizard could react, dragged him into a clumsy dance of twirls, swings and chaos.

Laughter erupted from his throat and spilled over his lips as suddenly Merry pushed Pippin away and took over the position as Harry's dance partner. Distantly, through the haze of his own amusement, Harry could hear the encouragements and roaring laughs coming from the middle of the room, the most noticeable being Gimli who seemed to have been drinking far more than what was healthy.

His breath came in gasps as the music sped up, thusly forcing Merry and Harry to pick up their pace as well. No one joined them on the dance floor as it seemed that they much rather preferred to watch the show than join in.

Finally, as the music slowed to a stop, Harry was free to breathlessly collapse into a chair, provided to him by Gandalf, and escape the clutches of the two energetic hobbits.

"Quite the pair those two are." He pointed out to Gandalf as the wizard had finished his grave conversation with Bilbo.

"Yes, I'm afraid their parents had a lot to deal with." Was the reply he received.

"I can imagine," Harry chuckled, allowing his gaze to roam freely within the room.

Slowly, he traced over each and every figure, secretly assessing them all with his gaze. The men were all sturdy looking with wild manes of hair and either a great beard or stubble on their chin. 'Ragged' was a word fitting to describe them. Swords hung on their belts, revealing that they weren't as comfortable in their surroundings as they seemed to be. Worn out clothes adorned their frames, showing exactly how fit these men were, each one of them with broad shoulders and large hands, Harry couldn't help but to envy them.

The dwarves were much the same, though they didn't look as tired nor as tall as their companions. They all had a tin of ale in their hands, frequently drinking of it as smiles, with an occasional glare in the direction of the elves, adorned their faces.

The elves, however, were the complete opposite. Beauty and grace were the words best used to describe them. They all had long hair, either blond or dark, that reached, at least, their shoulders. Slender frames that still managed to look masculine, in the males' case, made up their bodies. Not one weapon could be seen upon them, and rightly so, this was their home after all so why would they need to fear?

He froze as his green eyes connected with a pair of intense blue ones, the same blue eyes that had watched him with such appreciation during Elrond's council. Uncomfortably, Harry shifted in his chair but still, he did not, could not, tear his eyes away. It almost seemed as if someone had thrown a s_tupefy_ his way. His body wouldn't obey any of his orders. His eyes continued to be connected to the blue ones, and no matter how much he wished for it, he couldn't turn away.

And then the elf rose from his seat, keeping Harry's gaze prisoner as he elegantly moved forward. The blonde's steps were firm as the elf confidently strode forward, they were the steps of someone with a purpose and they were headed straight for Harry.

His heart sped up, nearly beating out of his chest, as the male swiftly closed in on him. He felt like a prey cornered by a predator. He felt like a deer seconds away from being felled by a wolf, he could practically feel the wolf's jaws, its teeth, mercilessly closing in around his throat, crushing his windpipe and denying him the air he so desperately needed. He felt breathless and strangely enough, nervous.

Abruptly, it was all put to a halt as another elf stopped the one headed for him, drawing him into a conversation. Without a thought, Harry turned towards Gandalf and asked, "Would you like to dance with me?" In the calmest voice he could muster.

He needed to escape his hunter.

"Why, Harry, it would be my pleasure!" The wizard burst out grinning from ear to ear and serving to give birth to a small spark of guilt within Harry.

Without hesitation, the old man grabbed Harry's hand with his wrinkled one, gently guiding the young man out on the dance floor. A slow tune started up as Gandalf placed his other hand on Harry's waist and Harry reached up to clutch Gandalf's shoulder with his left. Slowly, they swayed from side to side, easily following the rhythm of the music.

"You know, you won't be able to escape him forever." Gandalf suddenly said, looking down at Harry with serious eyes.

"Wha—"

"He won't give up, and eventually, when we begin our journey, you're going to be in his presence constantly. You'll be forced to interact with him." The wizard continued, interrupting Harry and keeping him from speaking.

"I don't like him." Harry bluntly stated as he finally came over his shock. "I don't like the way he looks at me, the way his eyes seems to devour me, it makes me uncomfortable." _I don't like the way he makes me feel_, he quietly added in his mind.

"You should get to know him before you say something like that, Harry." Gandalf replied, gently swaying Harry outwards in a graceful circle before bringing him back again. "I can introduce you to him if you want."

"No," Harry sharply said, turning his face away from Gandalf to look at the one their conversation was about, a frustrated grimace on his face as he studied the elf.

Green immediately clashed with blue. Harry was once again drawn in as the elf; Legolas as Gandalf had called him earlier that day, looked at the dancing pair intensely with a strange glint in his eyes. That breathlessness and nervous feeling had returned, practically knocking the breath out of him with its suddenness and nearly making him trip over his feet. It was an uncomfortable feeling to be scrutinized, to be studied so closely. Yet, Harry couldn't help but to thrive in it. It was like hell and heaven had clashed together in his body, fighting a fierce battle that rattled his very soul.

A flush spread across his face as the elf's lips twitched upwards in a smile. Hurriedly, he turned back towards Gandalf, tremendously aware of the firm gaze fixed on his back. He was perfectly aware that Gandalf's words were true; he knew that he couldn't avoid the elf forever. He also knew it wasn't right of him to judge Legolas before he'd actually talked to him; but, Harry found that he didn't actually care. If he wanted to do so then he bloody well would.

"Harry…"Gandalf trailed off, a slight reprimanding tone to his voice, making it clear as day that the wizard didn't approve.

"No, Gandalf," Harry replied, turning green eyes, shining with fierce determination, to gaze at Gandalf's worn face. "I won't go to him willingly, he'll have to catch me and tie me down before I talk to him out of my own free will."

Abruptly, the old wizard stopped their gentle movements. With a steel like grip on Harry's arm, Gandalf forcefully dragged the young man with him, ignoring the stares directed at them as he did so. This could no longer go on. If Harry continued the way he had until now, both he and Legolas would suffer because of it. No, he would stop this nonsense before hatred could be manifested in Harry's heart.

Violently, the doors leading to the gardens slammed open with a booming bam, forced into motion by Gandalf's magic. He had tried being gentle, he had tried to coerce Harry into talking with the elf, but his young friend had refused, thusly forcing Gandalf to use harder means. Aggravation coursed through his veins as Harry began struggling, desperately trying to rip his arm out of Gandalf's grip.

"Stop this foolishness, Harry!" Gandalf roared, swivelling around to meet the young wizard before him with a swiftness and gracefulness that belied his age. "What has Legolas ever done to you?! For goodness sake, he hasn't even gotten the chance to talk to you!"

"I—"

"No! You listen to me, Harry," Gandalf interrupted, not about to allow Harry a chance to retort, this was something that had to be done and it was done best without any interruptions. "This behaviour of yours is going to stop right now! Sauron's armies are increasing in both strength and number; we cannot afford to quarrel between ourselves. And you and Legolas, of all people, have the least reason to argue."

"And why is that?!" Harry burst out, rage filling him to the brim as he faced Gandalf head on. He wouldn't be reprimanded like a child; he wouldn't be looked down upon. "Please tell me, because I would dearly like to know what secrets you keep from me!"

Pausing, Harry folded his arms across his chest and drew in a deep breath, eyes shining with desperation and longing for information, "When you caught me listening in on your conversation with Lord Elrond I allowed it to pass, but frankly, I'm getting tired! There's something you aren't telling me, something important that, quite clearly, I should know! Why won't you tell me...?"

"I'm not the one who should tell you that," Gandalf sighed, running a tired hand over his face as if he could stroke away all the wrinkles there.

"Then who is?" Harry questioned, panting as he desperately tried to reign in his temper.

"Legolas," Gandalf said, eyes fixed on something over Harry's shoulder.

"What?" Harry whispered in return.

"What a pleasant surprise this is." The wizard said, completely ignoring Harry's whisper." I do hope your father is well."

Startled, Harry turned around, his wide eyes staring as they came in contact with the same elf that had been watching him for the whole night. His breath was caught in his chest as the realisation that Legolas could very well have heard their argument came to mind. Panic welled up inside him only to be brutally subdued and stamped down as Harry got control over himself again and the elf answered Gandalf.

"He was in perfect health when I left him in Mirkwood, thank you." Legolas' almost silky voice answered as the elf's eyes were fixed upon Harry.

"I apologise if I interrupted something, but we were all quite startled when you left us in such haste." The blond continued, not at all looking as if he was sorry.

"No matter," Gandalf replied, either not noticing Legolas' false apology or deciding to ignore it. "We can finish this up later, can't we Harry?"

"Yes, of course we can." Harry said, voice nearly cracking as Legolas' eyes furthered their investigation by slowly trailing up and down his body, as if caressing it with his eyes.

"Perhaps we should head on inside, it's getting rather chilly outside." Gandalf suddenly stated, interrupting Legolas' exploration of Harry.

"Perhaps," the elf replied, voice fading off into the night.

And as they headed on inside, Harry couldn't help but to feel as if he was a bone and Legolas was a dog salivating to put his teeth into him. He didn't know what was worse, the constant stare at his back or the pleasant shivers that rocked through his body caused by said stare.

It was all so confusing.

* * *

Harry was miserable. His whole day had been miserable. In fact, throughout his breakfast, his walk through the gardens and during his packing his miserable day had managed to morph itself into a horrible day with the help of a pounding migraine.

His temples seemed as if they were going to explode from the pressure, he could barely see in front of him because of all the black spots that crowded his vision. He wanted nothing more than to go into a dark room, throw himself onto a bed and snuggle in under those warm sheets, and allow himself some rest and peace from the constant pain that occupied his head.

In fact, the pain had been so bad that he'd had to sneak away, several times, just so he could throw up unseen. It had ruined his day, and the fact that they were to leave Rivendell the next morning did nothing to improve his mood. He had had experiences with migraines before and they had always lasted for at least two to three days. He didn't have time for that.

Therefore, he did everything he could to ignore it, to go about his day as if nothing was wrong and giving no one else a reason to believe so. And that was the reason why he was walking to his room leaning, pathetically, against the wall as he moved forward. His face, he was sure, was a pale white, almost ghostly, colour. His skin was tainted with sweat from the effort he made as he moved forward. He was exhausted and about to faint right then and there.

"Are you alright?" suddenly came from behind him.

Startled, Harry swung around, only to regret it the very moment the world began to spin and swim around him. He could practically feel the bile forcing its way up through his throat, fighting to get out and taint the floor with his stomach contents.

Red hair suddenly invaded his vision as the world finally righted itself. Nausea still ruled his being, but he was now steady enough to actually concentrate on the person in front of him and the question asked.

"Harry, do you need some assistance?" Gimli's concerned voice rang in his ears, echoing and sending a sharp, piercing pain through his head.

It almost seemed as if his headache had intensified in manifold, he could barely keep the tears from falling. A pained grimace, poorly hidden, made its way onto his face as he locked eyes with Gimli and tried to say, in his most confident voice, "I'm fine, just a little dizzy."

Even he could tell that it was far from convincing.

And yet, as he doubled over in pain, Harry couldn't quite force himself to really care about that. The only thing he could concentrate on was the unbelievable pain that travelled through his head and down his neck. The only thing he could focus on was the knowledge that the migraine had finally defeated him, and that the fellowship would probably be leaving without him.

With an agonized gasp his world was swallowed by darkness.


	6. Abandoning A Sanctuary

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Nothing to warn you about here.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **Things are beginning to happen now. Harry has finally been properly introduced to Legolas, the Fellowship has been formed and the fight to defeat Sauron has begun. There are, as you'll probably realize, some important points to this chapter, a quick peak to see how things are going in Harry's real world is probably the most important one of them.

Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

_"The whole value of solitude depends upon one's self; it may be a sanctuary or a prison, a haven of repose or a place of punishment, a heaven or hell, as we ourselves make it. _

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

**Abandoning a Sanctuary**

Hermione Jane Granger had never been an emotional person. She had never been the sort of female to overdramatize things. She was a rational person that always searched for a logic side to any situation. She liked books, she liked knowledge, she liked to know what was going on and she liked to have control. For the first time, with the exception of her, Harry and Ron's adventures, Hermione wasn't in control. In fact, she knew nothing of the situation they currently found themselves to be in.

Harry, her best friend, was missing and no one knew how, nor where he was.

For weeks her head had been buried in a book, she could never be found without one. Her eyes ran over word after word, chapter after chapter and book after book. She had lost count on how many she had been through by now; the only thing she knew was that she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop because if she did then reality would catch up with her. Then she would lose control over her emotions, she would lose control over the only thing she had power over. It couldn't happen.

Careful, so as not to rip the fragile paper of her book, she flipped a page, instantly latching onto the new words that revealed themselves to her. A small cup of cocoa was standing on the neat coffee table beside her, ready to be drunk. She had always loved to have something warm to drink as she read, preferably hot cocoa with a little milk in it. It was a tradition she had established over the years and it brought a slight comfort with it.

As the shouting voices of Ron and Ginny reached her ears, she ran an irritated hand over her face. She rubbed at her temples, desperately trying to keep herself from putting down her book, march right over to them and burst into a rant of how they didn't have the right to fight and argue between themselves when Harry could be in danger. In her opinion they should have been doing just as she, researching and doing everything in their power to find something that could help Harry. But no, they wasted time bickering amongst each other.

She barely managed to keep a scream of frustration to escape her as the voice rose in volume, so much, in fact, that she could nearly hear every word uttered. With a slam, she closed the book, put it down and purposely began walking towards the door. Anger filled her as she roughly opened the door, her fingers clenched into tight fists as the two redheads came within sight.

"Shut up!" she shrieked, stunning her two friends into silence. "Just shut up!"

Without waiting for them to answer she continued, her eyes shining with barely contained tears. "What good is it for Harry, that you two are just standing there like children and arguing about things that doesn't matter?! Why can't you two just grow up?!"

Despite how much she tried, despite the fact that she used all her self control, she couldn't keep the tears from falling. They ran downward, following the lines of her face, glistening in the light of the hallway and revealing exactly how much Harry's disappearance had affected her. Sorrow and desperation coated her features, making her look older than she really was. The world had already, in the absence of Harry, become harsher, and she was now beginning to feel the effects it had on her.

Gracefully, she turned and hastily walked away, she feared that if she were to stay she would say something she didn't mean. It had happened in the past, so therefore she knew that it could happen again in the future. The absence of Harry, who was usually the one who managed to calm her down, didn't make it any less likely.

Furiously, she wiped away her tears as she traced her own steps back into the library. Harry wouldn't have cried, Harry wouldn't have broken down. No, her best friend would have done everything in his power to solve this issue; he would have fought fiercely to correct this. Harry would have known what to do, Harry would have stayed calm and collected and done what was expected of him.

With a start, Hermione realized that that was what Harry had always done. He hadn't rushed head long into danger because he wanted to, he hadn't started hating Voldemort because he wanted to, hell, he hadn't even begun playing quidditch because he wanted to. Everything Harry had done, with the exception of activities with his friends, was because that was what everyone had expected and wanted of him. Her best friend had never really known his parents so how could he hate Voldemort for killing them, oh, he could hate the dark lord because he'd robbed him of the chance to have a family, but she knew Harry well enough to know that he never cried over spilt milk.

The thought that Harry, perhaps, had it better wherever he was, brought a new onslaught of tears to her eyes. Even though Harry had never told them, she had always known that his time spent with the Dursley's hadn't always been right. Despite how good Harry thought himself to be at hiding the evidence, there were always some peepholes that revealed the horrible truth. Her best friend had never had an easy life, and so the thought that he was, perhaps, having a good time away from the Wizarding world and their war, almost made her wish for him to never return.

Her gut clenched at the thought of never seeing him again.

"We all miss him, you know." Mrs. Weasley's voice suddenly rang from behind her, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Who?" Hermione inquired, claiming ignorance.

"We all miss him," The woman continued, sending her a look as if to say 'you know perfectly well who', "we just have different ways of handling it."

"Ron and Ginny takes out their frustration on each other, you bury yourself in your books, and I clean. It's alright, dear, to want him to be here with you, but it's not right of you to yell at Ron and Ginny for handling their emotions their own way."

"I know it's not right, but I don't know what else to do. I've found no answers, no matter how much I've researched, and obviously the Order won't tell us anything. I don't like living in ignorance, much less when it's obvious that someone knows something." The bushy haired brunette replied, looking the other in the eyes, daring her to contradict her.

"You just have to hope."

* * *

Harry was, literally, watching as a heart broke. He could almost see it shatter into thousands of pieces in front of him. It was in this very moment that Harry realized that the eyes were in fact windows to the soul. Because, through Arwen's clear blue eyes, he could clearly see her heart and soul being torn apart, all because of their departure, or more specifically, Aragorn's departure.

During his stay in Rivendell, Harry had quickly, after meeting both Arwen and Aragorn, realized exactly how much the two loved each other. They had the ultimate love, the love Harry had always wanted for himself. To be honest, he was quite jealous of them. He couldn't help the feelings that welled up inside him each time he saw them looking at each other. He wanted someone to look at him with the same look in their eyes as Aragorn had when looking at Elrond's daughter. He wanted to have someone that would be with him through good and bad, someone he could grow old with. It was something he most ardently longed for.

And so therefore, it almost seemed as if it was his own heart breaking in time with Arwen and Aragorn's. Reality truly was cruel to be able to rip apart two people who deserved each other and love as much as they did. Moments like these always served to remind him of how small a chance it was for him to find someone to love.

Not able to bear it anymore, he turned away from the sad scene infront of him, preferring to look at the way they would be travelling. The rough pathway seemed to go on for forever; he couldn't see any ending to it. Trees and bushes served to create an archway like effect, shielding the ground from the sky at some places. Only where the road led up towards the mountains did the trees give way, defeated by the rough climate there.

"Are you ready to leave?" Frodo suddenly came up beside him, unconsciously gripping the Ring hanging around his throat. "You're not too ill to travel I hope."

"No, no, I'm fine. A minor headache won't stop me." Harry replied, smiling down at the hobbit as he lightly ran a hand through his hair.

And it was the truth. After Gimli had brought him to Gandalf, who had, in turn, brought him to Elrond his migraine had been healed and nothing but a small prickle in the back of his head was left there to remind him of it. He could deal with a weak headache.

"And you?" Harry asked, allowing his hand to drop down by his side. "Are you ready to go out in the world and face all the dangers that await us?"

"Yes, with the Fellowship by my side, I am." The hobbit confidently replied.

"Just as I expected," He retorted. "I haven't met many hobbits in my life, Frodo, but I have no doubt that if I was to meet all of them, you would be the bravest."

"T-thank you," Frodo answered, his face dominated by the pink colour of his blood rushing to his face.

"It's nothing to thank for, I was just telling the truth."

"Still," Frodo stated, his blue eyes swivelling upwards to meet with the emerald of Harry's. "It means a lot to me, so thank you."

"Hmm," Harry hummed, extending his arms up into the air and stretching the whole of his lean body.

They got no further time for a conversation as Gandalf shouted for Frodo to come to him. Harry didn't mind, he knew perfectly well that Gandalf cared very much for the hobbit and so it only made sense that the old wizard wanted to check up on the little one before they departed. Besides, it only gave him some more time to contemplate. He had a feeling that because they were to live in such closeness there wouldn't be much time to think to himself. His days would be dominated by travelling, and his nights would be filled with either sleep or time spent with the rest of the Fellowship. He wouldn't have much alone time.

He would miss Rivendell. He would miss its peacefulness, its beautiful structures and the kind elves occupying it. It had become like a second home to him, a place where he could relax without the fear of being killed around every corner. A sanctuary.

He could easily admit that if he had the chance, he would very much have liked to come back, but sadly his desire to return to his own world overruled that wish. After all, his first and foremost priority was to find a way to get back home, to find a way so he could return and defeat Voldemort. It was his destiny.

Sighing, he carefully rolled his shoulders, trying, without luck, to loosen up the tension he could feel there. He had no doubt that in the months that were to come, his stiffness would become even worse; he could nearly feel it in his muscles.

"...ewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you." Elrond's voice suddenly broke through his mind, ripping him out of his thoughts and serving to bring him back to reality.

A heavy atmosphere settled upon them then. Revealing the graveness of their situation, and also how serious the whole Fellowship were. They were all determined to succeed in this mission; even if they had to sacrifice their own lives they would save Middle-Earth. They had no other choice.

With one last look at the beauty that was Rivendell, they all turned to follow Frodo, waiting for the hobbit to take the first step on their journey. And as the ring bearer did so, Harry could vaguely hear him whisper to Gandalf, "Gandalf, Mordor, is it left or right?"

A small smile crawled its way to his face then. He was quite certain that they would meet resistance, that they would run headlong into danger and that at times they would wonder if it was worth it. But he was also certain that they would have good times, small moments that would bring happiness to their hearts and smiles onto their faces, moments that would show them exactly what they were fighting for and give them new hope. All was not lost; they just had to remember that no matter what happened to them, there was always someone else that had it much worse than them, and that it was their task to help them.

Slowly, he followed the rest of the Fellowship, matching their steps with his own. Stone, grass and plants were stepped upon as they walked further and further away from Rivendell. For hours they travelled until the mountains Rivendell resided between were no longer in sight and the only thing they could see before them was the great unknown.

Tightly, he clutched his sword, seeking it out for comfort. They were in danger now, the enemy could from every direction, and so they needed to be alert. They couldn't afford to be caught off guard this early in the game. They needed to be—and Harry hated to admit it—Slytherin, cunning and self-preserving.

"Anxious are you?" Aragorn suddenly asked as he walked up beside him.

"No, I'm just following your example." He retorted, looking at Aragorn's hand that rested over the hilt of the ranger's sword, caressing it with small strokes.

"Ah, one can never be too careful." The man said, smiling down at his companion. "Especially now that we're on open land and vulnerable to attacks,"

"Exactly," Harry said, turning to face forward so he could watch where he was going.

He and Aragorn had a relationship that one could say was made up of silence. They didn't talk much between themselves; rather they enjoyed the companionable silence that always developed between them. They would always begin a conversation, but it always ended up fading into silence. It was comfortable, Harry mused, to have someone that didn't demand words from him; it was nice to know someone that, just as he, preferred to have some quiet time where he could mull over his own thoughts. It was a very special thing to have.

Oh, he could sit in silence with Gandalf as well, but that silence always ended up being broken, unlike when he was with Aragorn, he and Gandalf never managed to sit in silence for hours, they always ended up talking to each, discussing things, joking, laughing. That was nice as well, but it didn't bring him the same satisfaction as his moments with Aragorn did. No, his talks with Gandalf brought him another kind of satisfaction, which was equally as nice as Aragorn's silence did. It, he guessed, all depended upon his mood.

He had some sort of relationship with each and everyone in the fellowship except for Legolas. After the incident with Gandalf, he found himself to be quite indifferent, perhaps a little bit irritated, towards the beautiful elf. Oh, he had no problem whatsoever admitting that the elf was a sight to behold, the blond was as near perfection as one could come, and Harry had always known to appreciate beauty, even though he sometimes could be a bit oblivious to things involving him and love.

He had learned, quite efficiently, to ignore the heated stares that were sent his way from the elf. He could easily, pass by him in the hallways without giving him any attention. The only downside about the whole thing was that it seemed as if the elf had a remarkable ability to penetrate his way into his mind, lately it had been a very difficult task to keep his mind off the blond. So, with the exception of that, Harry could confidently say that Legolas didn't affect him in any way.

"Hey, Aragorn," Harry said, doing something unusual and interrupting their silence. "Is something bothering you?"

"It's nothing," The man said, surprise etched into his features. "Why would you think so?"

"Because, you and Arwen have just been separated and you have no way of knowing whether you'll ever see her again." He explained, returning the smile sent his way by Gimli. "If something like that happened to me I wouldn't think it to be nothing."

"I've asked her to move on." The rugged looking man said in a pain filled voice.

"Ah, but you know she won't." He whispered, careful so as not to say it loud enough so any of the others could hear. "You know she won't give up, that she'd rather die than give you up and that's what's bothering you, because you think yourself to be selfish because you're happy she feels that way. Am I right?"

"It isn't fair, not to me, but most importantly, it's not fair to her."

"I don't have any experience with love myself, but isn't that what makes it so special?" He inquired, looking up at the man with a curious glint in his eyes. "Isn't love that has endured hardships the best love there is? Isn't love that you have to fight for the one that's the most satisfying?"

"Yes it is, but I'm not sure whether I can endure this again."

* * *

"They're good." Harry stated as he watched Merry and Pippin being trained by Boromir. "Are you sure they haven't been trained before?"

"They haven't." Gandalf said, comfortably inhaling the smoke from his pipe before masterfully breathing it out. "It's just that hobbits have a way with tools."

"So in other words, you think they're better students than me." He retorted, lips quirking up into a grin as his words forced the old man into a coughing fit.

"Now, Harry," Gandalf said with tears in his eyes as his coughs finally ended. "A student taught by me can never be bested by someone else's student. It is simply not done. You were quite fortunate to be taught the art of swordsmanship by an excellent master such as me."

"Getting a little boastful there, Gandalf?" Aragorn asked from his seat, his eyes following every single movement the hobbits made, evaluating them with the air of a master.

"Not at all, my friend," the wizard smiled. "Just telling the truth,"

"I'm sure you—watch your feet Pippin!" The ranger abruptly interrupted himself, waving his pipe madly in the air.

Chuckling lightly, the old wizard turned away from the man and made eye contact with Harry instead, smiling down at his companion as he saw the small smile decorating the green eyed wizard's face. It truly was a pleasure seeing the young man enjoying himself rather than worrying about his future. He was well aware of how much Harry wanted to find a way back to his world, and so therefore he didn't have the heart to tell him that the chance of him finding one was as close to zero as one could get.

Harry had always been meant to come here to Middle-earth, just as Gandalf had always been the one meant to find him. It had all been laid before them, it had been on his mind for many years, ever since he'd heard of it, it had been something he had looked forward to. He had never really thought about all the things Harry would have to abandon to get to them. He hadn't thought about the fact that Harry had his own war to deal with beside the one against Sauron.

And so, even though he found joy in the young wizard's presence, after all, never before had there existed a wizard of so young an age, he also felt sadness because of it. Harry's desperate search for a solution had served to bring forth guilt in him. It had almost killed him to see Harry lock himself up in that library to search for an answer that probably didn't exist, and it had pained him to rub salt into the wound, a wound Harry wasn't aware of having, by telling him that Mirkwood had a large collection of books. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Because he held the hope that if Harry found someone to love in this world, then he would settle down and not despair as much when Gandalf broke the news to him, those horrible news. Mirkwood could help with that.

"Gandalf." Gimli's voice abruptly tore him out of his thoughts. "I have a suggestion."

Sighing, the old wizard rose from his seat and followed the dwarf to a more private place; he had an inkling of what his dwarven friend wanted to say.

Absentmindedly aware of Gandalf's disappearance from his side, Harry turned his attention towards Sam, watching as the hobbit carefully and patiently prepared their food. During their 40 days long trip it was Sam that had turned into their chef. The gentle hobbit never said no when asked and did his work with obvious joy and pleasure and since Sam's food by far was the best it had naturally become him who prepared it.

"What's that?" The hobbit suddenly said, his attention settled on something in the sky.

"What?" Harry asked as he turned in the same direction, trying to see the exact same thing as Sam was.

"Nothing," Gimli said as he walked away from Gandalf, an unsatisfied look on his face. "It's just a whiff of cloud."

"It's moving fast...against the wind." Boromir stated, looking ruffled from his tumble on the ground with the hobbits.

The world seemed to stand still as they all gathered around, staring up at the sky and trying to define what it was. No one talked as the thing came nearer and nearer, growing with tremendous speed.

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas suddenly shouted, ripping them all out of their trance like state and forcing them into action.

Without thought Harry moved into action, tightly gripping his sword with one hand and using some water to put out the fire with the other. Hurriedly, he grabbed his things, desperately searching for a hiding place only to panic when he found none. His heart thumped furiously as his blood rushed through his veins, pumping his body with adrenaline. His breath came faster and faster as he became aware of the fact that he and Legolas were the only ones that hadn't found shelter yet.

He was vastly aware of how close the Crebain were now. He could almost hear their wings beating as they drew nearer and nearer. Abruptly an arm hooked itself around his waist, and he was literally dragged towards a cluster of rocks. Taking the hint Harry threw himself under one of them, gasping as the rough ground cut into his back.

Out of nowhere a warm body settled itself above him, hovering over him and sending wave after wave of warmth through him. Startled, he looked upwards only to make eye contact with Legolas. Blood rushed up to his face, tainting his cheeks with a soft red colour and revealing his embarrassment. The elf's warm breath washed over his face, sending shivers through his body and making him more aware of how perfectly his body fitted with that of Legolas.

The noise of the Crebain abruptly came over them; the sound of their flapping wings rang in his ears as he held his breath in anticipation. Would they be found? Would they be hauled out of their hiding places and murdered right on the mountain they had been preparing to eat lunch on?

Instinctively, his hands reached up to bury themselves in the fabric of Legolas' clothes, tightening to a death grip that made his knuckles turn white. And just as he was about to bury his face into the crook of Legolas' neck the danger was over and the Crebain had moved on.

He had to admit that he was quite thankful towards the Crebain for leaving when they did, who knows how embarrassed he would have been had he actually clutched onto Legolas as one would a lover.

It had been a close call.

A very close call.


	7. What A Tangled Web

**Title: **Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **There are some sexual contents in this chapter that isn't suited for younger readers.

_**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **This chapter is actually quite important to the rest of the story, there are some things about Harry that will be revealed ( even though it might not be easy to see), things that you're going to see more of in the future, so hopefully you will all manage to catch onto that. If not, send me a review or a PM and I'll tell you what it is.

Anyway, hope you like!

**Edit: **Okay, so some changes have been made in this chapter and the ones after this in order to make Harry act less like a spoiled brat and I feel that I've succeeded in this. I won't be making anymore changes from now on so I hope you're all satisfied with this.

* * *

_"Change means movement. Movement means friction. Only in the frictionless vacuum of a nonexistent abstract world can movement or change occur without that abrasive friction of conflict." - Saul Alinsky, 1909 - 1972._

* * *

**Chapter 7: **

**What a Tangled Web We Weave**

He had never really thought about how his life would be in the future. He had always known that because it was his 'responsibility' to defeat Voldemort he'd never really had much of a chance to live on past twenty. Harry had come to accept that, so long as his friends could live a long and happy life, then he would gladly sacrifice his own life for their advantage. The young wizard had never imagined how it would be to die, but after a long time of consideration, he had figured that the best way to go was to drag Voldemort down with him and allow the rest of the Wizarding world to live in peace. He had always thought that at least his death would serve a purpose then.

But, as he trudged his way through the thick, icy cold snow blanketing the mountain named Caradhras he changed his mind. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live a long happy life, with someone by his side. He wanted to have children he could tell stories to. He wanted to be able to grow old with someone, to watch that person get more and more wrinkles as the years went by and be able to say how beautiful that person was, despite their worn out appearance. It was a silly dream of course. Nonetheless, it was a dream Harry desperately longed to come true.

And all it had taken him was a trip to another world to realize that such a hope actually dwelled within his mind.

"Harry…are you alright?" Gimli's gruff voice suddenly came from behind him, drawing him out of his thoughts to look at the dwarf in surprise. "You seem a little bothered."

Bemused, Harry stopped to catch his breath. A small, hesitant smile decorated his pale features, making him seem like a lost child searching for an answer as to why mummy wasn't there anymore. He was very certain that he'd had that expression on his face before. Sweat glistened on his forehead as the sun shone down upon him bringing some relief from the cold, but not nearly as much as it would have had it been summer.

"I'm fine, just thinking about how this whole mission is going to end." He answered, watching the others walking in front of them.

For a moment, the dwarf seemed to twist and turn on the spot, moving around uncomfortably as if something hard was digging into his back. A small blush made its way onto the red bearded male's face, furthering the slight pinkness Gimli already had from their tedious walk.

"Well…" The dwarf coughed, looking in the complete opposite direction of where Harry was standing, refusing to meet the young wizard's gaze. "Know that…If-if you want someone to talk to I-I'll be here for you."

Harry knew his friend had a very hard time expressing any other feeling than anger, contempt and joy. And so, because of that he greatly appreciated the offer. "I'll be fine, Gimli, but thank you for the offer. It's very kind of you."

"No matter, just so you…you know… know."

"I know." Harry replied, smiling at the embarrassed male while tucking his cloak tighter around him. The wind had picked up and served to send shiver after shiver racing through his body.

Violently, his hair flew around his head, occasionally getting into his eyes, making it harder and harder for him to see where he was going. Snow suddenly began flying around them as it dropped down from the sky and was whipped about by the wind. The sun disappeared behind a dark, hovering cloud, chilling the air as the only source of warmth left them. Taking a deep breath, Harry furrowed his eyebrows, using more force behind his steps to get himself moving.

Nature seemed to be against them as they continued travelling, walking through piles of snow, holding their own against the wind while at the same time trying to follow a specific route. He had to admit to the weakness that more than one time he'd glared at Legolas in jealousy. It truly would have been much easier for him, for all of them, if they'd had the same ability as the elf of walking on top of the snow instead of forcing their way through it.

His teeth clattered as the temperature seemed to drop to an even lower degree. His fingers were so abused by pushing away snow that he could barely feel them. It was strange, how sudden the weather had changed, he had never experienced something like it and the foreboding feeling in the back of his mind told him that trouble was headed their way.

Pumping even more force into his limbs he walked faster, desperately trying to catch up to Gandalf. It was to no avail; not only was the wizard too fast for him but both Aragorn and Boromir were in his way.

"Legolas!" He suddenly shouted as the elf came within his line of sight, he was quite confident that the elf's superior hearing would have no trouble picking up his cry.

Just as he had predicted the elf turned directions and headed over to Harry instead of to the front which had originally been his intention. It only took a matter of seconds for the light-footed blond to reach him.

"Could you bring me to Gandalf?!" He shouted over the wind, lifting his arms up into the air and reaching for the elf, despite his better judgment. "I need to speak to him!"

Without replying, Legolas bent down and wrapped his strong arms around Harry's waist, effortlessly lifting the young wizard up into the air and his arms—bridal style. Hurriedly, Harry reached up to steady himself by holding onto Legolas' neck as he was cradled against the blonde's warm chest. He might have been cautious when dealing with the elf, but he sure was handy to have in situations such as this, Harry thought to himself as they made their way towards the front of their company and thusly to Gandalf.

"Thank you," He whispered into the elf's ear as he they reached their destination and he was carefully lowered down into the snow again.

A small nod and a smile—barely visible due to the snow—was his answer.

"What brings you to my side, Harry?!" Gandalf asked as he used his staff to make a way through the snow. "Carried by an elf, even," A small flicker of amusement could be seen in his grey eyes.

"Something's wrong!" He yelled back, furiously wiping some hair out of his face to no avail. The wind wouldn't let up, and therefore, his hair wouldn't let up.

"What?!"

"I said something's wrong!!" He repeated, choking on a piece of hair that flew into his mouth.

"I'm sorry, my boy, I can't quite—"

"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas abruptly shouted, cutting the wizard off with his urgent tone.

The wind picked up, storming about them with a fierceness that seemed unnatural, something he now knew to be true. Whoever that voice belonged to was the one causing their distress.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried as lightning violently flashed in the sky, illuminating their features for a small second.

The hobbits seemed to huddle against one another, creating a large living lump. Straining his ears, Harry could barely pick up the sound of a voice as it increased in volume. The snow, wind and lightning stormed on, nearly forcing them to their knees.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouted, moving to protect the hobbits as he reached for his sword.

A rueful smile worked its way onto Harry's face as his eyes lingered on the man's sword. Swords wouldn't do them any good now, Saruman couldn't be defeated by a sword. The only thing that could defeat him was magic. Both he and Gandalf knew this fact.

Hurriedly, he turned to face the old wizard, immediately making eye contact and displaying that he knew just as well as Gandalf what would have to be done. The old man seemed to release a small sigh before he closed his eyes in defeat. A wrinkled hand clutched his staff a bit tighter, bringing it closer to him as if it could give him some comfort. Harry perfectly understood how much it would take out of his old friend to stand up to Saruman. There weren't nearly as many wizards in this world as there were in his therefore, they much rather preferred to live in peace with each other instead of fighting. The fact that Saruman had been the leader of Gandalf's order just made the situation that much worse.

"I'm not sure if I could defeat him, but if you'd prefer it that way and would lend me your staff I could do it." He offered in a quiet voice or, as quiet as he could be when in the middle of a snow storm.

"No, Harry, "the old man sighed, seemingly defeated by a greater force." I won't put you through that. Saruman is mine to fight and it shall stay that way."

"Alright," He replied, patting the wizard's shoulder in an attempt to comfort. "You'd better do it fast, the mountain won't hold for much longer."

A small, almost unnoticeable, nod was his only reply as Gandalf stepped further out on the mountain ledge. In a deep, secure voice he shouted at them, "Stay close by the mountain wall!"

Tension rose in the air as another bolt of lightning could be seen flashing in the sky, dangerously close to the tip of the mountain. Hurriedly they moved to obey Gandalf's words pressing themselves against the mountain wall in a cling of bodies. To his right Sam was located, squeezing his eyes closed in fear of what was to come, Boromir was to his left and he could vaguely feel someone at his back, he didn't know who, but to be perfectly honest, he didn't particularly care. All he cared about was the sudden rise of volume as cloud after cloud crashed against each other. The storm was picking up and he could almost feel Saruman's tainted magic prickling behind it all.

Gandalf's voice could suddenly be heard over all the noise, ringing clear with a harsh tone to it. Words that he couldn't understand were shouted at the sky, competing with the loud racket the thunder made. Abruptly, raw magic filled the air, coiling around him and sending shiver after shiver of desire and want through his being, forcing a wanton whimper out of his throat. He wasn't used to magic such as this; he wasn't used to the unrestrained feel about it. Almost as if in ecstasy, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his breath came in pants as he began squirming against the body behind him. His whole body coursed with the lust like feeling, making him near frantic in his movements.

A soft, throaty groan reached his ears as a pair of hands settled down on his hips, fruitlessly trying to still his movements. He could easily feel the result of his movements straining against his back, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. All he wanted was some sort of relief, he wanted to unleash his own magic and join Saruman and Gandalf in their fight. He wanted to stay where he was and continue to squirm in the way that had almost begun to give him relief. He needed to do _something_, but the choice was no longer left up to him as the hips of the one behind him started to move in union with his. Pressure began building in him and just as the tightly coiled knot was about to snap a resounding boom could be heard and all trace of any magic disappeared as if it had never been there.

He was literally drenched in ice, as piles of snow were layered over him. The lust-like feeling that had been rushing through him left him as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving him there to be cold and horrified over his own actions. He could still feel the lingering warmth his rutting companion's hands had left behind on his hips as his world was surrounded by white. Cautiously, he began digging around him, turning around to catch sight of a green garment. His movements became frenzied as air became a delicacy. Furiously, he worked to get himself back to the surface and it was only when black spots tainted his vision and his lungs burned to the point of torture that he finally reached the surface, gasping for some much needed air, filling his lungs to the brim.

A calloused hand suddenly appeared in front of his face as he finally began to regain his bearing. Reaching forward, he accepted the offered help as his chest continued to move up and down at a fast pace. His lungs, it seemed, still hadn't gotten over the whole ordeal. Effortlessly, as if he was nothing more than a feather, he was helped up from the cold snow, only to be surrounded by a pair of warm, secure arms and pushed into a solid, defined chest. A distinctive scent of forest and pure masculinity wafted into his nostrils, drowning his senses in that one smell.

Hot breath wafted across his left ear as the one holding him seemed to bend down slightly. "Not that I didn't appreciate the gesture, but wasn't that a little inappropriate in such a situation?"

Abruptly, Harry could feel his blood rushing to his head, tainting his face an unflattering red and sending wave after wave of dizziness at him. Mortification and embarrassment filled his whole person as Legolas' words finally ended their journey from his ear and to his brain to be processed. Roughly, he shoved himself away from the body holding him so securely, without looking at the elf; he hurriedly turned his back on the one he had, just moments ago, shamelessly been rubbing up against, one who had shamelessly rubbed back.

Another bout of embarrassment welled up inside of him; he was unable to look at the elf and so focused his gaze on the white ground instead. He had fought so hard to keep something like this from happening, he had been so confident that he would manage to stay away from anything remotely of romantic nature and yet here he was, nearly having an orgasm from rubbing up against the male that he had been trying so hard to keep from developing emotions for.

"Inappropriate!?" Harry suddenly replied his voice laced heavily with sarcasm, coupled with huskiness that came from the lingering arousal within him. "How could that possibly be inappropriate? Why, where I come from it's a perfectly normal thing to be doing. It's a nice way to get to know someone."

Blue eyes blazed with intensity as Legolas suddenly took a step forward, looming over the slighter frame of Harry as he reached out to take a hold of the young wizard's shoulders and draw him in closer against him. Steel like arms kept him in place, making it impossible for him to get away as the elf lowered his head so that his lips hovered over Harry's right ear.

"You would do such a thing with a total stranger? You would stoop so low as to give yourself to anyone who passes by?!" Warm breath washed over his skin as Legolas' heated voice, though it was little more than a whisper, resonated through the air.

"What?" Harry whispered in a disbelieving voice, looking at the elf with confusion.

"I apologize if I didn't make my meaning clear enough," Legolas replied, his eyes blazing with a heated fire that seemed almost intimidating to Harry as he, in his rage and hurt at easily being dismissed as something so trivial, cruelly continued. "I'm asking does such loose behavior come naturally to you, do you indulge in such activities regularly?"

"What, no! I didn't mean—wait, are you calling me a whore?!" The young wizard spat, a small tint of hurt in his voice as he stared up at the elf before him.

"There's no need to put words in my mouth, I never called you a whore." The elf replied in a slightly softer tone.

"Like hell you didn't!" Harry raged, disbelief coloring his voice as he caught the attention of the rest of the group with his unexpected outburst and foul language. "Insinuating that I often indulge in loose and inappropriate behavior, you're acting as if you've caught me in the middle of the act!"

Silence reigned as Harry gasped for breath, glaring at Legolas as he fought desperately to keep from socking the elf in his disgustingly perfect face. His whole body trembled with the all consuming anger that coursed through him. He didn't know what was worse, Harry having rubbed up against Legolas and actually enjoying it, or the fact that he had actually been hurt when the elf accused him of being a harlot.

"Harry…" Legolas hesitantly said, trying to reach the furious wizard before he joined the others. "I didn't mean it like that… I could never think of you as a whore."

"Oh, well that's as comforting as being faced with a hoard of flesh eating elephants." Harry threw over his shoulder, stalking away in order to calm his temper.

* * *

Darkness ruled as a group of ten made their way down the rocky and uneven mountain hill. Some struggled with their backpacks as they clumsily stumbled downwards. Others walked with no trouble at all, their movements as graceful and fluid as water. They were all of different sizes, some were small, some were of ordinary height and one towered over them all.

Tension lay thick in the air as the four hobbits in the group looked back and forth between the company's elf and their youngest wizard with trepidation. Yet, the two creatures being observed paid them no mind. Legolas was too caught up in trying to get Harry one on one to apologize to him while Harry, still bristling with anger, spent his time ignoring those attempts. Nothing good had come out of their journey over Caradhras. They were all exhausted after fighting their way out of the horrible snow storm. Tension and awkwardness lingered between them all as it was caused by Harry and Legolas' fight, and their enemy now knew where they were. All in all, they were in between a rock and an incredibly hard place.

An indifferent mask painted Harry's face as he silently walked beside Gimli, listening to the sound the dwarf's axe made as its owner tapped it against the cold and hard mountain wall. The sound echoed around them, as it was the only noise that could be heard in the godforsaken landscape they were currently travelling through. Soft ripples went through the water to their right as the wind made itself known by playing with the fabric of their clothes and caressing the nature around them.

"It was a very wise decision you made up there on the mountain, master Frodo." Gimli suddenly stated, breaking the tense silence that surrounded them and giving them all a small reprieve from the awkwardness of it all. "We shall be well received by my cousin, a large feast will be held in our honor, I'm sure."

A small giddy smile plastered itself on the dwarf's face as his imagination ran away with him. He was most certainly picturing all the fires, food and ale they would receive should there indeed be such a feast, Harry quietly mused to himself. He could almost see the drool dripping from his friend's mouth, the trail it made as it disappeared in the bushiness that was Gimli's red beard. If there was one thing the sturdy dwarf enjoyed it was a cup of fine ale.

Harry himself had never been particularly fond of alcohol. He had always chosen to stay away from it ever since he had been little and had seen what it did to his uncle, but he had never been one to berate his friends just because they enjoyed something he didn't. In fact, it was rather amusing to sit and watch as they drank. He had, after all, gotten much blackmail material through the many sessions of drinking his mates had gone through.

And just like that, as he thought of his friends back home, a small sense of longing crept up on him from behind. It snuck up on him, nearly knocking him out with its suddenness. It had been over a month since he had last thought much of them and now, as he walked there in silence, barely listening to Gimli's attempts at conversation, it all rushed through him. He was a horrible person, he decided. What kind of person allowed themselves to be so distracted by other things when their friends back home were in danger? What kind of disgusting person was he to actually think that it would have been nice to stay in this world rather than his own? He should have been fighting with his all to find a way to get back home; instead he had just given up after not finding anything in Rivendell.

Gracefully, he stepped over a log, being careful not to fall as all his weight was put on his right foot. His hands were clenched in tight fists at his side, his dark eyebrows drawn together as his eyes painstakingly displayed his inner turmoil for all to see. But then again, as he thought of how horrible he was, he couldn't help but to think how horrible the Wizarding world was as well. They were all grown up people who expected a 16 year old boy to handle their problems for them. They were, it seemed, perfectly fine with using him as a sacrifice. They didn't care about him so long as they had a person to blame everything on. At times he was their perfect golden-boy, at other times he was the black sheep and the reason for all their misery.

He was torn apart, he felt stretched as he was pulled in both directions. It was almost as if he was doomed to be miserable no matter what he chose. If he chose to stay in Middle-Earth he would feel guilty and self-conscious because he had betrayed his friends. If he chose to do as he had been determined to do for so long, go back to his own world, he would most likely die an excruciating death or live a miserable life where he was either the hero or the bad guy.

None of the options sounded very promising.

To be truthful, he had no idea what to do anymore, it was as if he wasn't in his own body, as if someone else was controlling him and making him do things. The Ring, Saruman, their mission, the problems in the Wizarding world, his friends and his fight with Legolas, his confusing emotions towards the elf was all stuffed in his mind, filling it to the brim and threatening to destroy his head with all the pressure. He was minutes away from a breakdown and he wasn't so sure that he could keep it from happening this time.

A soft light shone down upon them as the moon peaked out from its cover behind the clouds, it reflected beautifully off the water, making it seem as if the sky was underneath them instead of its usual position above them. Absently, he turned to face the sight before him, halting his movements in favor of taking it all in. The moon almost seemed to mock him in its own shining way. It mocked him with its likeness to his own lunar planet in fact; everything around him seemed to taunt him in its likeness to everything he knew from back home.

"The walls of Moria…" Gimli's stunned whisper reached him, making him turn around to see what had the dwarf so stunned.

And sure enough there it was. A door made up of glowing, almost pure white lines carved into the mountain walls. Details, so beautiful that he wondered who could have possibly carved them, adorned it, making it seem as if it was something made for royalty. It stretched upwards in a gracefully rounded arch, almost making it seem more oval than it really was.

It was absolutely stunning.


	8. Death In Darkness

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Some minor violence.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N:** I'm so happy with the end of this chapter! I feel that it shows us the harsh reality of the world and how things aren't always the walk on roses that we want it to be. I know, I'm becoming very deep.

Enjoy!

* * *

_"The death of a child is the single most traumatic event in medicine. To lose a child is to lose a piece of yourself." - Grebin._

* * *

**Chapter 8:**

**Death in Darkness**

Blood rushed through his veins, his breath came in pants and his muscles quivered in excitement as he swiftly moved forward, twisting and turning in a graceful, yet deadly, dance. Violently, he swung his sword around, cutting off another tentacle while listening to the pained screech the monster let out. Adrenaline pumped through his whole body as he turned around, cutting off another dangerous limb headed for his head, his heart was beating violently as he pushed his body to use everything he had been taught by Gandalf. This wasn't like fighting orcs, no, fighting this huge creature was an entirely different thing, he didn't know where to stab and he didn't know what to slice off to even an inch closer to the one holding his friend capture. It was like a never-ending battle, whenever one limb was cut off two others would come to replace it, fighting even fiercer than the first one. Shouts came from his companions as they rushed after him, attacking the huge monster before them. Frodo's terrified screams rang through the air, echoing off the mountain walls as he was flung around like a rag doll.

With a grimace, Harry waded through the murky water, tightening the grip he had on his sword and cutting down any tentacle in his way. Blood flew everywhere, coating his face and his body as he continued moving forward, never relenting in his desperate attempts at saving his companion. It was almost like moving through a maze, you had to calculate your every move as well as to avoid any dangers that could be lurking around the next corner. Surprises were everywhere.

A pained cry escaped him as one of the slippery, wet appendages connected with his head, throwing him a distance backwards to connect harshly with the mountain wall. A scowl tainted his features as pain raced up his spine, warning him of the fact that he was, indeed, mortal and therefore his body could still feel the pain that came of being thrown against something with such power. Cursing under his breath, Harry forcefully pushed himself up from the ground, supporting himself on the mountain before turning to look at the chaotic scene before him.

Aragorn and Boromir were both fighting their way around in the water, swords clenched tightly in the air as they furiously cut at the massive tentacles surrounding them. Legolas, with his bow and arrow poised, stood on the shore, aiming, with a precision and a coolness that surprised him considering the situation they were in, at the monster. His stunning features were set in such a determined mask that Harry had a hard time believing that the elf wouldn't hit his target. Gimli, with his axe high up in the air, quickly ushered the rest of the hobbits behind him and into the mines, keeping them as well as him safe as he threw axe after axe at their opponent.

Without waiting to see where his fellow magician was, Harry flung himself once again into battle, ignoring the slight twinge of pain that travelled through his body as he did so. The only thing on his mind was to get Frodo back down on the ground and into the safety of the mines; he could deal with pain until that deed was done. Blow after blow he delivered with his faithful sword as sweat pimpled forth on his forehead from the strain of fighting while in pain. His breath came in pants as he threw himself down in the water, splashing the liquid in every direction and barely avoiding a tentacle swinging over his head. His whole body was surrounded by water as he frantically tried to get to his feet. Bubbles erupted around him as a scream escaped his throat, a strong, thick tentacle wrapped around his ankle dragged him out of the cold water, lifting him high up in the air and forcing him to drop his sword.

The world was spinning as he was flung from tentacle to tentacle at a speed that had him wanting to throw up, he could practically feel the bile at the back of his throat wanting to come out. Groan after groan escaped him as blood rushed to his head, he could even have sworn that a trickle of the red life giving liquid was running down his face, almost making its way into his eyes and disturbing his vision. Vaguely, as if in a world of his own, he could hear the shouts of his companions, black spots tainted his vision as he desperately tried to use his upper body alone to right himself. But it was all to no avail. All the movements of the large monster made it impossible for him to maintain a position that could relieve the blood flow, in fact, the more he struggled, the more it seemed as if he was nearing the brink of unconsciousness.

A terrified scream tore its way out of his throat and tumbled over his lips as he was thrown high up into the air, even higher than he had been before, his stomach rebelled against him, flipping madly as the contents in it were thrown around. Tears made their way to his eyes as gravity came to life forcing him down towards the ground with great speed and force. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest, his lungs burned as breathing became more difficult, he could nearly feel the ground zeroing in and as he prepared himself to have a horrifyingly painful meeting with the ground the only thing he could think of was the fact that the slight stinging pain at the back of his head was becoming more and more annoying.

And then, with a deafening splash, Harry was once again back on the earth. Water surrounded him as he struggled for breath, his arms waved around him frantically as he tried to find the right direction that would lead him to the surface, it was perfectly clear to him that he was in deeper waters than he had been earlier and thusly, Harry realized, he was very close to the monster. With that in mind, Harry sped up his movements, opening his eyes and trying to find out exactly where he was. Air bubbles escaped his mouth as his movements became frenzied, it almost seemed as if he was getting nowhere and the constant lack of air was beginning to make itself painfully known to him. His lungs ferociously burned as the last air in him escaped him, leaving him underwater without anything to sustain him and keep him from losing consciousness.

The world faded into the black abyss that was nothingness.

* * *

Shivers wracked through his body as he shifted slightly, rolling over onto his side, trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in. Rocks dug into his flesh as cold seeped into his bones, forcing him to wrap his arms around himself, desperate for some sort of warmth. Furrowing his eyebrows into a frown, he curled in on himself, refusing to open his eyes and see what was around him. A slight ache at the back of his head persuaded him to turn his head onto his side, pressing his cheek onto the cold ground for some sort of relief.

It didn't work.

With a frustrated groan, he opened his eyes, shifting into a sitting position while leaning on his left hand while the other rubbed his forehead, trying to relieve some of the pressure gathered there. A tired grimace crossed over his face, ruining his lovely features for a moment and revealing his discomfort. His muscles were sore, screaming at him each time he shifted, his fingers were ice-cold from the lack of warmth and his throat was raw from the lack of use. The sound of water dripping down on the ground reached his ears like the soft melody of a piano, distracting him from his assessment of himself and persuaded him to take in his surroundings.

A dark, rocky ceiling, laced with lines of white stretched a far way above his head, twisting and turning in random curves. Those same lines made their way down the mountain walls and only halted when they reached the ground. Various tools, used for digging and such he assumed, were scattered across the ground, abandoned by their owners as if nothing more than useless dirt. A soft light from his left drew his attention away from the rusty spades and mattocks.

Muffled voices flowed towards him from the same direction that the light came from, alerting him to the fact that he was, in fact, not alone in the darkness. The low, baritone voice of Gandalf could easily be distinguished informing Harry that it was his companions and not the enemy with him in the dark.

Mindful of his sore body, he rose to his feet, supporting himself on the stone wall next to him before slowly moving towards the light. His stomach rumbled quietly as he ran an unsteady hand over it. He felt as if a black hole made up his stomach, his legs shook from the lack of nourishment as he continued to move forward. For a moment a slight dizzy spell rushed over him, forcing him to pause in his movements and catch his breath. The fact that the ache at the back of his head had begun to get worse did nothing to relieve him of his strain.

Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to once again move forward, ignoring the second rumble of discontentment issued by his stomach. Slowly, as he became more secure in his movements and steps, he moved closer to his companions. A small, worn out smile made its way onto his face as he heard Merry and Pippin's hushed laughter.

It would seem that everything was as it had been. Merry and Pippin were still joking, Legolas and Gimli was still spouting off insults at each other, Gandalf hadn't abandoned his beloved pipe, Frodo and Sam were still calm and quiet and Aragorn and Boromir still hadn't given up teaching the hobbits how to fight, their whispered strategies were enough proof of that. Their encounter with the humongous octopus hadn't robbed any lives.

"You shouldn't be up and moving on your own." Boromir's voice suddenly reached his ears as his eyes met those of the man.

"Harry! You're awake!" Merry and Pippin enthusiastically shouted, cutting off any response he could have made and jumped from their position on the ground, rushing towards him with hurried movements.

"I'm fine, I can easily move on my own so there's nothing to worry about." He answered the man, smiling down at the four excited, yet slightly concerned hobbits.

"Hmm…" Gandalf hummed, cutting into the conversation and looking at the young wizard with a suspicious look. "I'm sorry to say, Harry, but I can't find it in myself to believe that to be the truth."

"And why not?" He asked, green eyes swiveling around to latch onto the old man. "I think it sounds perfectly believable."

"Yet the pained grimace you wore as you approached us dismisses that, doesn't it?" The wizard slyly retorted, motioning for his companion to take a seat beside him.

Doing as the grey bearded man wanted; he moved forward, shaking off any attempts at assistance offered to him by the hobbits. He was injured and weak, yes, but he wasn't crippled. "I never knew you to be so observant, Gandalf."

"I find, Harry, that even after knowing a person for 20 years they never cease to surprise you." Gandalf replied, shifting so he could lean against a rock.

Closing his eyes, Harry allowed his head to loll back slightly, relaxing his whole body as he leaned back against the same rock as Gandalf was. His chest rose up and down in a steady rhythm, revealing his relaxed state to all those watching. An almost unnoticeable shiver wracked through his body as the cold finally caught up to him again.

"How long was I out for?" He whispered, not once opening his eyes.

"Two days."

"Ah…" He replied, changing his position into a more comfortable one. "And how did you manage to travel with me as a burden?"

"Legolas carried you." The wizard responded in a quiet voice, trying not to disturb the others who had settled back into the same position as they had been before Harry had arrived.

"You should have left me there to die. That way Legolas wouldn't have had to carry me and I would've been spared the humiliating experience of having to thank him." Harry dryly retorted, his body tensing.

"We had no other choice, Harry, as you well know." Gandalf sighed, remaining in the same position as before. "None of the others have the same endurance or strength as an elf so it only made sense that we allowed Legolas to take care of you. He would never hurt you, you know. I don't quite understand why you dislike him so. Has something happened that I'm not aware of?"

"No." the young wizard nonchalantly replied. "Nothing whatsoever, in fact, I find that this entire trip has been exceptionally uneventful, it's astonishing really."

"Indeed, a mystery that astounds us all." Gandalf, staying true to his mischievous nature, played along.

With one last cautious look in the old man's direction, Harry clumsily rose from his position, searching his surroundings for one specific hobbit. A quiet hum of triumph erupted from his throat as his eyes latched onto Sam, watching as the quiet hobbit shuffled through his backpack while keeping an eye on Frodo. Sam was perhaps one of the most caring beings Harry had ever met.

Carefully, mindful so as not to make too much noise, he moved towards Sam, watching with the eyes of a starved man as the hobbit took out some bread and sausages. His stomach decided to once again make itself known as it released a great roar of hunger. A soft blush made its way onto his face then, decorating his features with an appropriate light red color.

"Hungry?" Sam's timid voice rang in his ears as the hobbit approached him with a piece of bread. "I'm afraid I can't give you anything better than this, we aren't allowed to use a fire."

"That's alright." Harry smiled down at his companion, moving so he could join him and Frodo as he accepted the food offered to him. "I'm not high in maintenance."

"It's nice to see that you're still alive, Harry." Frodo said as the wizard made himself comfortable by his side, shifting so that he could lean against the mountain wall. "We were beginning to get worried when you didn't wake up after the first hour. You can only imagine how frantic we were when you still hadn't woken up after two days."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." The hobbit replied, tentatively smiling at him. "You're here now, aren't you? Isn't that what matters?"

"I suppose." Harry answered, nibbling on the bread in his hands.

For a moment he just sat there, content to eat small bites of his food as he folded his legs underneath himself. The sound of rock moving against rock caught his attention, making him turn his gaze outwards to observe the darkness that surrounded them. Nothing, except for a few boulders and a steep staircase could be seen. Yet, Harry couldn't quite shake off the feeling that something was wrong, it felt as if someone, other than Legolas, was observing him, observing him with ill intent that sent tremors of trepidation through his body.

With narrowed eyes and dark eyebrows drawn together, he focused more intently at the darkness before him, and just as he was about to give up the sight of something gleaming caught his attention. Slowly, he rose to his feet, walking towards the edge of the staircase to get a better view of the sight before him. Once again something, that Harry now knew to be a pair of eyes, gleamed. Drawing in a sharp breath he hurriedly turned to speak with Gandalf only to be stopped by Frodo standing right behind him.

"You noticed him too, huh?" The hobbit questioned. "Gandalf says he's been following us all along."

"Then why doesn't he do something about it?" Harry retorted, turning to face the creature lurking in the depths of the darkness.

"Pity."

"What?"

"Gandalf pities him and so he won't allow us to do something about him." Frodo said with a tinge of bitterness to his voice. "He says that Gollum still has a role in this war."

"He's probably right then. From what I've heard about Gollum from Gandalf it's easy to say that he's obsessed with the Ring, he'll probably stalk us for the whole journey. And you never know, perhaps it'll turn in our favor." Harry spoke, watching as the creature jumped from stone to stone, yearning to get closer to the group and thusly the Ring.

"I still don't like it." The blue eyed hobbit growled with one hand secured on his sword in an aggressive stance.

"Neither do I."

* * *

Careful, so as not to slip on the loose stones that lay scattered across the ground, Harry made his way down the dark and narrow tunnel. The only source of light came from Gandalf's staff, which was carried by its owner a good distance in front of Harry. The only sound that could be heard was the occasional rumble of rocks rolling down a hill and the Fellowship's own breathing. A relieved sigh squeezed through Harry's throat as he noticed how much easier it had become to breathe. The air at their resting place had been tainted by a foul smell that had almost made him gag, nearly suffocating him.

A sharp hiss escaped him, forcing its way out of his throat as he stumbled without any grace whatsoever and unleashed a small slide of rocks. Hastily, he reached out and latched onto a solid rock. A pained wince conquered his face when the stone cut into the vulnerable flesh of his palms, drawing forth a light stream of crimson red blood. Without concern of his already abused lips, his teeth latched onto his plump bottom lip, biting and nibbling it harshly so as to keep any noise of pain from escaping him.

For hours, since Harry had woken up, they'd travelled through the damp and cramped darkness of Moria. And for all those hours Harry had had to endure the unnerving feeling of Legolas' intense stare at the back of his neck, something that had resulted in his bruised lips as he had resorted to biting on them instead of lashing out at the elf.

Drawing in a deep breath, Harry relinquished the tense grip he had on the hard stone, giving his bloodied hands a break. He had accepted the fact that Legolas wouldn't stop staring or trying to speak with him, nothing else could be expected considering their fight. But did it really have to be so ridiculously difficult to ignore him?! He'd more than once caught himself thinking about the possibility of forgiving the elf, as if the mere thought _didn't _disgust him. He was fighting a fierce battle with himself and he was ashamed to admit that he was very close to losing.

"Come along, Harry! We haven't got the time for breaks now." Gandalf's voice carried back to him, shaking him out of his own musings.

Drying his hands on the fabric of his pants, Harry hurried after the rest of the Fellowship, nearly running to keep up with them. Slowly, as they walked further into the narrow hallway made by the skilled hands of the dwarves, the ground seemed to angle itself downwards, leading them further down under the earth until they finally stumbled upon an opening. Relief flooded through his body as he stepped through the arched opening, taking in the humongous pillars that kept the heavy stone ceiling from collapsing. Carvings, which he was sure had once been beautiful and detailed, were worn down by a long time without care. And just like everywhere else in Moria, digging tools, weapons and skeletons lay scattered across the ground as a reminder of the terrible deeds that had been done there. He didn't quite know whether to be in awe of the magnificence of it all, or to be saddened by all the evidence of horrific battles.

However, the thing that would be forever etched into his mind, that he would never forget, was the sight of a slightly smaller skeleton. It was devoid of any trace of beard and holding a small, rotten wooden sword with its mouth open in what seemed to be a shriek of terror.

"He died young that one." Boromir said as he came up beside him.


	9. Harsh Reality

**Title: **Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Not much to warn about here.

_**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **Enjoy!

* * *

_"When you argue with reality, you lose - but only 100% of the time." - Byron Katie, 1942 -??_

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**Chapter 9:**

**Harsh Reality**

There are many ways one can die. You could die of old age, you could die of an illness, or you could even die in an accident. One could never be quite sure of which way they are to go, only one thing is for certain, we're all headed to the same place, we just travel down different paths to reach it.

Harry himself, had a firm belief that he would die in the midst of battle. He was prepared to drag as many of the enemy down with him as he could in his last glorious moments. In his mind he could nearly picture it. Sweat and blood coating his body, wand raised high up in the air as he threw curse after curse around him. And then, right as he'd felled another enemy, a spell, the same color as his eyes, would shoot towards him, taking him down with it. Then darkness would come over him. He was sure that it would be anticlimactic and unnoticeable, despite his title as a hero.

The young dwarf had obviously; by the way his mouth was twisted in an agonized scream, died in a horrible way. The arrow protruding from his chest signified that orcs, or perhaps goblins, had done the deed. It was, Harry thought, a good thing that Gimli still hadn't discovered the corpse. If it managed to extract such a reaction from Harry, who knew what kind of sorrow it would rip out of the grown dwarf. Boromir's heavy and warm hand settled down on his shoulder as the man gently guided him away from the horrid sight. He hadn't really managed to establish a real relationship with the proud man, and so therefore the gesture came as a pleasant surprise. It proved to him that even though they weren't close help could always be found from the rugged looking man.

Giving his companion a mildly distressed smile, Harry averted his eyes away from the rest of the group in favor of looking down at the dirt covered ground. He had always been surrounded by death in his life, but the thought of someone as young as that dwarf, dying in such a way, somehow pulled at his heartstrings, making him feel like he would have had it been any of his friends that had lay there. Instinctively, as everyone did when in such a mindset, Harry drew closer to Boromir's warmth, soaking in the man's confidence, allowing it to provide him with a sense of comfort. He hated relying on others, but he had to admit that going to someone else for reassurance in such a situation was kind of…nice.

Sneaking a glance up at the man by his side, Harry couldn't help but to wonder whether or not he was attracted to him. He had known, ever since Ginny and Hermione had pointed it out to him, that he was attracted to both females and males. He would never be any good at the whole dating thing and detecting when he liked someone or not, but at least he knew his preferences, that counted for something, right? Of course it did. But that was beside the point; the actual point was that he felt something for Boromir, just as he felt something for all of the Fellowship members. The only problem he had was figuring out exactly what it was that he was feeling.

It was in moments like these that he realized how hopeless he would have been in his own world had it not been for the expertise of his book loving friend.

Running a hand through his unruly and disgustingly greasy hair, Harry cleared his mind, pushing away all thoughts of his own world, Boromir and the young dwarf. He needed to be able to walk a single step without getting a headache because of all the thoughts filling his mind. His focus should have been on their journey, not on his own problems.

A bitter taste filled his mouth and washed over his taste buds as he looked up from the ground to take in those around him. They all looked worn out; even Legolas, with his perfect looks, was paler than usual. The darkness of Moria was beginning to get to them all, it was wearing them down, picking them apart one by one. Their individual weaknesses were beginning to show, and it was up to them all to cooperate to hide those flaws. They couldn't afford to expose something of themselves that the enemy could take advantage of. To be honest, he was beginning to get tired of always having to watch his step, of always having to be on full alert. It was tiresome and it almost made him so paranoid that he believed an enemy to be around every corner they passed. To his mortification, he was turning out to be a younger version of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Don't worry about the past, Harry." Boromir said, gently squeezing the young wizard's shoulder. "I'm sure the young dwarf didn't suffer for long."

"No, it's not that. It's just that… I just have this feeling that something's about to go wrong." He replied, pursing his lips and furrowing his eyebrows. "We've been too fortunate up until now. We haven't been discovered and even though that's a good thing, it's bothering me, things never go this smoothly."

"Hmm," The man hummed as he guided Harry forward. "Perhaps we're just an exception to that rule, perhaps we're meant to be able to do this mission without much trouble."

"It's a possibility, but I doubt it." Harry spoke, glancing around him as the group moved through the enormous hall. "Life and reality isn't fair, and so I doubt that they would go easy on us this time."

"Careful there Harry," Aragorn suddenly cut in, walking up on the young wizard's other side. "That sounds strongly of bitterness."

"It's not bitterness, I'm just being realistic."

"Then you have to keep in mind, that hope and dreams is a good thing to have. You can't afford to lose hope just because you want to be prepared and ready for anything headed your way. That's not a life."

Whirling around, Harry halted before the worn out human, taking in the tired glint in his eyes and the ragged way in which he held himself. Rage swirled through his veins, as Boromir's words registered in his mind.

"In my eyes, a life _is_ exactly that. It's about having to worry about being killed every day; it's about watching every step and move you make. No one, not even my closest friends, can be trusted with my innermost thoughts. Hope and dreams aren't a part of my vocabulary, much less something I have. So don't you dare preach to me about how a life is supposed to be when you know next to nothing about me!" He snarled, fists clenched tightly at his sides as his green eyes glowed in an almost unnatural way.

"Calm down, he didn't mean it that way." Aragorn pointed out, rescuing Boromir from any more of the small beauty's wrath as he watched Harry with suspicious eyes.

"Then what did he mean?" He questioned, turning around to face the other man.

"I meant to say that you shouldn't give up hope, I didn't mean anything wrong with it." Boromir cut in, answering for himself and sending Harry a reassuring look.

Just as Harry was about to apologize for his rash and aggressive behavior, Gimli's sorrowful howl rang through the air, reverberating off the stone walls as the sturdy dwarf ran towards a chamber on their left. Pushing what he'd been about to say to the back of his mind, Harry immediately moved into action, running after his friend with surprising swiftness.

Dirt flew up into the air as he halted, his feet stopping with such suddenness and such force that dust and filth was forced into movement, forcing a violent cough out of his throat. The second he stopped coughing, Harry walked up to his friend, awkwardly patting him on the back as he watched the dwarf's shaking shoulders with growing unease, he had never seen his friend in such an unsettled state before.

Looking away from the mess that was Gimli, he allowed his emerald eyes to wander about the barely lit room. Skeletons, which he'd now begun to get used to, lay scattered across the ground, some entwined together, others abandoned far away from the rest. Some were whole; while others seemed to have been torn apart, as their lower body lay at least four feet away from the upper body. Swallowing the bile he could feel at the back of his throat, Harry turned to take in the large tomb, which Gimli was currently leaning on, standing in the middle of the room. Dust, that had probably been gathered up through centuries, coated the solid stone, making it hard to see what was carved into it with the exception of one sentence.

Here lies Balin.

A tremor rocked his body as he took a step backwards, looking around himself with even more suspicion and anxiousness. His feet felt like jelly, the world was spinning and the muffled sobs of Gimli seemed to be too loud for comfort. He felt as if they were surrounded by enemies, as if danger could leap upon them at any given moment. Cautiously, as he allowed his eyes to wander about the room, and ignoring the rest of his companions that had caught up with them, Harry wrapped his hand around the rough hilt of his sword, taking comfort in the protection his weapon could offer him.

"Harry?" Frodo's soft and quiet voice reached him, shaking him out of his suspicious glaring in favor of looking at the small hobbit.

"Something's not right." He answered to the ring-bearer's unspoken question. "We need to get out of here."

"Not just yet, Harry." Gandalf said, having caught the hobbit and young wizard's quiet conversation as he bended down towards the ground, picking up an old and battered book from the hands of one of the skeletons.

"Why?" He questioned, turning to stare at the old man in disbelief. "Can't you see that if we linger we'll get caught?"

"Gimli needs time to gather himself and I would very much like to know what has happened here. So long as we're quiet we won't be discovered." Gandalf reassured him as his eyes devoured the contents of the book he was holding.

Harry barely resisted the urge to scoff.

It truly was typical of Gandalf to be caught up in such an insignificant thing such as reading when they were, according to Harry's superb instincts, in life threatening danger. With a determined and yet cautious air about him, Harry marched with firm steps towards a large rock before making himself comfortable on it. Gandalf, when determined to investigate something, couldn't be persuaded otherwise and so it was better for Harry to sit in such a position, as he waited for the man to finish, so that he had a clear view of both the entrances of the chamber.

"Of course, what was I thinking? Do go on." Harry replied, sarcasm heavy in his voice as he had managed to find himself a semi comfortable position to sit in.

A small reprimanding glare was sent his way as Gandalf once again indulged himself in the book. Several minutes passed by as the Fellowship walked about the room, trying to ignore and avoid the many skeletons lying there as they investigated every crook and corner. A haunting silence settled down over them, only allowing the sound of their own breath and footsteps to be heard. It was unnerving; to say the least, the way every movement in the room seemed to send a strike of fear and anxiousness coursing through his veins.

Abruptly, Gandalf's voice cut through the air, destroying the spell they had all been under. "'They have taken the bridge…and the second hall' "

Gimli's sobbing halted as Gandalf's words reverberated off the walls.

"' We have barred the gates…but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes.'"

Chills travelled up and down his spine as his green eyes swiveled upwards to latch onto the looming figure that was Gandalf.

"'Drums… drums… in the deep.'"

The wizard paused for a moment to look up from where his face had been buried in the book and observe the ones around him, a glint of dread and a small sliver of guilt lit up his suddenly old looking eyes. It was almost as if Gandalf's whole soul and life source had been drained out of him after reading that single sentence. Most likely the ones known as 'them' were still lingering in the mines, and so therefore they could easily be discovered. Harry had an ominous feeling that they were about to run out of luck.

His suspicions were proved right when Gandalf finished the last line. "'We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out…"

Apprehension lay thick in the air, nearly suffocating them with its heaviness. In his sudden paranoia Harry half expected an entire army of orcs and goblins to leap out from behind him only to immediately begin mauling him. He could nearly feel their cold weapons digging through his skin, tearing through his flesh until the metal finally connected with white bone. Suddenly, the walls seemed too close for comfort.

Shivers wracked through his small frame as a great boom resonated throughout the room, it almost sounded as if it could be heard throughout the whole mine he realized to his horror. The whole group spun around to take in the sight that was Pippin as he stood there, guilt written across his face as he cowered before the towering figure of Gandalf. Fury radiated from the old wizard's being as he approached the small hobbit, intent on teaching the small creature a lesson that wouldn't be easily forgotten. The mere thought that Pippin might have put all their lives in danger with his reckless attitude sent an even fiercer wave of anger through him. Someday, the childlike hobbit would have to learn that everything had consequences and that not everything in the world was as easy as he thought it to be.

Ripping his staff and pointed hat out of the hobbit's small fingers, Gandalf growled, "Fool of a took, throw yourself in next time and spare us of your stupidity!"

If it was possible it almost seemed as if the young hobbit curled in on himself to an even further degree, going as far as to cover his pale face with hands shaking like leaves. Tension ran high as the rest of the Fellowship observed as Gandalf continued to rant about the hobbit's irresponsible behaviour and about how Pippin soon would find himself dead if he didn't take their mission more serious. A small tinge of pity welled up inside Harry as he saw how his friend took it all without even protesting. At times Harry couldn't help but to feel that Gandalf was a little _too_ harsh on the mischievous creature. After all, Pippin's carefree attitude and his innocent set of mind was something that should have been preserved, not forced out of him.

Then, just as he was about to move forward to calm the angered wizard and save the poor hobbit from anymore word lashings, he heard it. A muffled boom, like the sound of drums, slammed against his eardrums, almost as if he had been standing right next to it. A terrified thrill washed through his veins, tensing his muscles and forcing his hand to immediately reach for his sword. Around him his comrades did the same, he anxiously noted.

A shiver traced up and down his spine, caressing it with something that felt like an ice-cold fingertip as another boom, this time closer, travelled through the mines and into the chamber.

With carefully placed feet, Harry backed away from the chamber's entrance until he finally reached the rest of his group, accidentally bumping into Gimli as he drew in a shaky breath. To his left he absentmindedly noted that Legolas had abruptly paled as if he had heard something that scared the shit out of him. To be truthful, Harry couldn't blame him, he himself nearly wanted to curl in on himself and stay like that, avoiding the looming battle forever. If the dwarves, who had been great in number, had been defeated, what was then the chance that they were to survive? As close to none as it could get.

"They're coming," Legolas whispered, instinctively stepping forward so that he was standing between Harry and the entrance. "Hundreds of them."

With shaky hands Harry drew his sword, fear coursing through his veins. Sure, he had fought orcs before, but not orcs of such a large quantity. His limbs trembled at the mere thought, who knew what kind of tricks they had stuffed up their sleeves. Orcs were, after all, vicious creatures and so fighting hundreds of them, who each had some trickery in case things didn't go their way, was the same as committing suicide, it was impossible to win. Still, they would all fight to their death and take as many of the enemy as they could with them.

Horrible snarls and screeches could be heard as another boom resonated through the room, this time it was even nearer.

"Prepare yourself," Gandalf said in a calm voice, one that was the complete opposite of the worried glint in his eyes. "This will be a rough battle."

No one replied.

The sound of his own blood rushing through his ears kept him occupied, keeping his mind away from the horrible battle cries and screams that were headed their way. His breath came in gasps as he fought with a great effort to breathe in his required dose of oxygen. His heart was beating with a tremendous force, nearly hopping out of his chest as the tension rose even further. The fact that his face was as pale as snow was something he knew to be a truth; in fact, he had almost felt the blood rush down from his head the moment he had first heard the orcs' battle cries.

And then, just as another boom could be heard, the world stood still.

Not one sound could be heard, even as Aragorn and Boromir rushed into action, yelling at each other and closing the heavy wooden doors with something that should have been a loud thump, but to Harry's ears sounded like nothing but a small whisper and all the while dark arrows rained down upon them. A heavy axe, thrown to Boromir by Legolas, was used to bar the door. Locking the Fellowship in and keeping the enemy out. As he clutched his sword even tighter, Harry could barely make out the shouted "they have a cave troll with them!" but as he did the memory of his first year rose to mind. He had barely come out of that episode alive and so how he was to come out of this one with his life still intact was a mystery to him.

And then, just as the three barring the door once again joined them, sound had once again come back to the world. A loud boom was heard as the old door threatened to give in and allow the forces trying to move it through.

"Stay with Gandalf!" Aragorn roared to the hobbits as he stood with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes looking in the direction the orcs would be coming from.

Immediately, the small, innocent creatures scattered to obey, moving with hurried steps behind the old wizard before, with a bravery Harry hadn't expected of them, drawing their short swords with determined faces. Everything about them screamed seriousness. It sent a chilling strike of reality through his soul as he watched the usually peaceful creatures turn into beings ready for battle. It truly was a shame that such innocence was to be sullied by the fierceness of battle and war.

"Steady." Gandalf murmured as he saw Harry about to move a step forward. "Let them come to you."

The waiting truly was nerve-wracking; it almost drove him crazy to hear the orcs right outside the room, to watch as time after time something slammed into the rotting wooden door, nearly breaking it down only to see that it would hold for a few more minutes. Had it been up to him he would have had them breakdown the door in that very moment so he could stop waiting and rather begin fighting. He needed to do something, it was unbearable to just stand there and wait for them to come to him. Still, he obeyed his fellow wizard's order and stayed put.

Five tense minutes later the door gave in.

Chaos and hell erupted.


	10. Horror At Its Best

**Title: **Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **A lot of violence in this one.

_**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **My treat for you all, hope you like!

* * *

_"All generous minds have a horror of what are commonly called 'Facts'. They are the brute beasts of intellectual domain." - Thomas Hobbes, 1588 - 1679. _

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**Chapter 10:**

**Horror At Its Best**

It wasn't without fear that Harry, in union with his companions, raised his sword and defended himself from the onslaught of enemies. It was quite the opposite really, his heart pounded in his chest, fear and adrenaline pumped in his blood, coursing through his veins at an unusual speed. He had never fought as many as he was now expected to do, and the mere thought that he and his companions might not come out of this fight alive, truthfully, scared the shit out of him. His hands were shaking as his sword clashed with that of a horrifying orc; the forceful vibrations that went through him almost forced his beloved weapon out of his hands, nearly leaving him defenseless.

With a poorly concealed yelp, Harry jumped to the side, barely avoiding a blood stained axe from penetrating his skull. Chaos surrounded him as his companions roared and fought, taking down orc after orc, without a single scratch on them. Gandalf, with his staff raised high up in the air, protected the hobbits with a fierce fury that made you realize that he was not _just _any old man; this was someone to be reckoned with and not to be underestimated. It brought a new determinedness to Harry, to see his old friend in such a state. With new will and hope he moved from his unmoving and vulnerable position and began killing orc after orc, not caring about the black blood that stained his clothes and skin.

A grunt escaped his chapped lips as he drove his sword straight through the marrow of one orc, while at the same time dodging the sword of another. A foot rose high up in the air only to connect with the sturdy chin of his attacker, with a jerk he ripped his sword out of the orc he was leaning against, only to drive it into the other orc's chest. A slight resistance told him that he'd reached its heart.

Ducking and attacking, running away and storming forward, after some time the fight seemed to turn into a deathly dance, a dance where if you missed one step you would also lose your own life. No mercy was to be found from either side, and for a while, as he continued to fight undefeated a slight hope sparkled in Harry's eyes, perhaps they would get out of it alive after all… perhaps they would defeat all those surrounding them and be able to just walk out of the mine, without any disturbances. It was a fools thought, he knew. But then again, if having hope was something that made you into a fool, then a fool he would be.

He wouldn't, in the midst of battle, give up on hope, for that could be his undoing. Giving up hope could be the one thing that would lead to his death. Harry didn't want to die, he didn't want to die without having experienced the love of a lover, he didn't want to die without having had the chance to establish a family of his own, to have a wife (or husband) and kids, and perhaps a dog or a cat. He wanted to have the chance to visit his parent's grave before he surrendered himself to death, to be able to tell his friends one last goodbye and tell them to move on. He had always known that his chance of surviving the war with Voldemort was as close to zero as one could get, but he'd never thought that he would die by any hand other than Voldemort's own. It was unthinkable, had always been unthinkable.

And yet, here he was, very close to doing exactly that. He was incredibly close to dying by the hands of Sauron's forces. To be truthful, he would have preferred it if it really was Voldemort standing in front of him, instead of some unknown enemy. At least that way he would have been assured that no one would ever forget him, if he were to die here, in this mine, he would only be known as the kid who dropped out of nowhere and was picked up, out of pity, by an old wizard. He didn't want that. He never wanted that.

Tears, which he had promised himself to never show, overwhelmed him, tainting his vision and making it more and more difficult to defend himself. The mere thought that his friends would have no idea what had happened to him just threw him off. The thought that they would, perhaps, have to go to an empty grave with his name engraved upon it, even though they still had a slight hope in their hearts that he was still somewhere out there, alive.

The presence of Gimli by his side, defending him when he himself couldn't, brought him out of his self-pitying, reminding him that he still had a job to do, and that was to protect the ring and the ring-bearer at all costs. With a jerky movement, he dried his tears and once again threw himself into battle, joining Gimli in his battle roar ignoring its slight hoarseness, no doubt from the dwarf's own crying. Both he and Gimli had nothing and everything to lose on this journey and therefore, unconsciously, they understood each other, they supported each other, and Harry had to admit it was, to be truthful, one hell of a relief. While it wasn't something that he would normally be happy for, knowing that he wasn't the only one having hardships because of their journey was oddly enough helping him in putting himself back together enough so that he could keep on fighting, keep on defending.

A loud boom echoed throughout the room as the chamber door was thrown open, revealing a large, hideous looking troll. Nothing, not even a small piece of clothing, with the exception of a large chain, adorned the gruesome troll's body. Everything that hung (disgust welled up in Harry as he took in the sight of the troll's wrinkly_ thing _between his legs), was allowed to fly around freely along with the creatures hazardous looking club.

He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as he took in the second troll he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.

The whole room, even the orcs, froze as the new arrival let loose a booming growl, baring his ugly, yellow teeth in an almost threatening grin as he took in his next victims. An almost malevolent, yet captive air surrounded the large troll as the last of the growl's echoes ceased to exist. Taking a small step back, Harry shakily raised his sword in defense, trying as hard as he could to maintain eye contact and not falter. If he did, then the troll would surely see that as him submitting and that just wouldn't do. He wouldn't admit his defeat before he'd even fought the creature, no matter how much he dreaded to actually wave his puny sword towards the large monster.

"Move!" Aragorn roared as the troll moved into action, slamming his club down on the place where Harry had previously been occupying.

Clumsily, he scattered to his feet again, only to have to once again dodge, throwing himself to the ground to avoid the troll's massive chain from hitting him. With a groan, Harry crawled away from his attacker, rolling from side to side to avoid the orcs' attacks as well as avoiding his large enemy's continuing assaults. He barely registered his companions' desperate attempts at coming to his aid, so consumed was he by ducking and dodging, rolling and crawling, it had even become a personal mantra.

A scream erupted from his throat and spilled over his lips as a sharp, almost all consuming pain ripped through his shoulder. Black spots covered his vision as he desperately tried to crawl away from the enemy, even though he had no idea in what direction he was, indeed, crawling. He could feel the thick blood, which probably was a deep red color, flow out of his pounding shoulder, running down his arm and leaving a blood trail on the filthy ground.

Vaguely, he could hear Gandalf and Legolas' voices shout his name in union, one in the same pained tone as the other, as If they were desperate to get to him and that it brought them physical pain when they couldn't. The thumping noise of the troll's footsteps coming nearer and nearer sent a rush of panic through him, his breath sped up as he with one last effort, dragged himself forward, not at all caring if he was going right into a group of orcs so long as he could escape the horrible fate of being squashed by someone's foot. Not once did the idea of rising to his feet so he could run jump into his mind.

All the while his heart thumped in a mixture of composed and frantic motions.

The devastating attack that he was sure would soon descend upon him, never came. Not even a single weapon managed to get near him as the world abruptly halted, freezing as if ice surrounded it. Muffled screams surrounded him as it almost seemed as if everything around him moved at a slower pace than he himself did. A warm arm latching onto his waist caught his attention, bringing him out of his stupor as the appendage nudged him to his feet and into action. His breath came in sharp gasps as he, without allowing himself to think about the pain shooting through his shoulder, followed the one helping him away from the revolting troll.

Steel weapons and stone forced into the air by the large creature's club flew through the air, barely missing Harry and his savior. Absentmindedly, he took in the pained screeches of the orcs that had been caught by the swinging weapon, the enraged cries of their comrades as they realized that their own troll was killing them as well as the ones they were told to capture. Yet, the malicious glint in their yellow eyes never faltered, for to them, the thought of being allowed to torture the innocent beings infront of them to the point of insanity, pushed the small flash of anger at losing a comrade out of their minds.

The only thing that stood in their minds were of how they were to sully the elf's perfection and beauty, how they were to teach the hobbits pain unlike anything else, and finally how they could use the dark haired beauty with those unnatural green gems for their own pleasure. The mere thought made a glint of lust light up their eyes, making them seem even more sinister then they already were.

"Come on, Harry," Boromir heatedly whispered in his ear, practically dragging the young wizard around with him at the same time as he fought to defend them both. "Snap out of it!"

With a great show of power Boromir lifted Harry up off the ground, barely managing to throw him out of the way as a dark sword shot forward. A curse tumbled, ungracefully, over the man's chapped and beaten up lips as he kept one eye on the enemy and the other on the place where his companion had landed. Luckily, the throw seemed to have shaken Harry out of whatever trance he was in, for he was up on his feet with his faithful sword in his hands a minute after his rough landing. With a relieved sigh Boromir turned back to the battle and left Harry to defend himself.

A snarl tainted Harry's features as he once again threw himself into battle, ignoring the continuing throbbing that alerted him of his injured shoulder. He had no time to tend to his injuries now, a whole army of orc and goblins and a troll after his life wasn't something that gave you a lot of time for breaks. This was a battle and a fierce one at that. They couldn't afford moments like the one he'd had; it was a sign of weakness to zone out as he had done. Only the help of Boromir had kept him from being killed.

He was, to say it nicely, furious with himself.

Heatedly, he took his anger out on the enemy, slashing them down, spearing them with his sword. Not once did he relent as he skillfully, if a little unsteadily, danced around the room, avoiding the troll as much as was possible. Screeches filled the air, battle cries haunted the room and bodies fell everywhere. The air stunk with the tainted scent of blood and sweat, every now and then a shower of rocks flew about the room, stirred by the menacing looking club clutched in the roaring troll's hands.

A strike of fear and outright terror flew through him as he saw the troll looming over Frodo with a spear in its right hand. The downright terrified expression painting the small hobbit's face just served to make the situation seem even more hopeless. Without thinking he ran forward, hurriedly moving by an unconscious Aragorn as he raised his sword high up in the air, even he knew that he wasn't fast enough to make it, but he didn't find it in himself to just stand there as his friend was practically speared like an animal. It seemed as if the world only contained the troll, Frodo and Harry himself, everything else surrounding them ceased to exist as the long spear descended, connecting with Frodo's body.

"Harry!" Legolas' voice penetrated his mind, alerting him of the fact that he was about to run straight into the deathly zone that was the area around the troll, Frodo's killer.

"Get back, Harry," The elf roared as he fired off an arrow, torn between his common sense and his want to go to Harry and comfort him. "Now! Wait until we've felled the beast, _then _you can go!"

With a steady gaze fixed upon Frodo, Harry ceased his movements forward, ripping his eyes away from the sight of a frozen hobbit in favor of looking at the blond with a stare that seemed to scream 'well then, take him down'. Emerald eyes turned cold, appearing like green stone instead of the soft mass and tissue they really were.

The raging fight continued on as the troll moved away from his victim, a strangely victorious glint in his eyes as he found himself another target. It let out a booming roar as it headed for the cling of terrified hobbits, raising its club high up in the air it stormed forward at a great speed, anticipating the moment when he'd squash the small and vulnerable creatures with his weapon. Screams rang throughout the chamber as the Fellowship, as a whole, moved forward to stop the troll from carrying out the evil deed. Axes flew forward, thrown by Gimli with a great precision. Arrows rained down upon their enemy, covering the ones running towards the troll with swords as well as keeping said troll from noticing them.

Chaos surrounded them as the hobbits finally came out of their stupor, only to throw themselves on the troll's back, hacking away at its head, causing it to flail around, roaring it's annoyance and anger. The orcs still occupying the room scattered everywhere, trying desperately to avoid being trampled by the panicking creature. Harry, whom had joined his friends in their fight, followed them, cutting them down and preventing them from escaping. He wouldn't allow them to escape, he wouldn't allow them to get away with killing Frodo, it was their entire fault, _they _had released the troll, _they _had come after them with the intent to kill, so it was only fitting that Harry should do the same to them.

Blood flew everywhere as he decapitated one of them, almost reveling in the brutal act. Later he would admit that the notion of Frodo's death had pushed him over the edge for a slight moment. But, as he was right in the middle of it, he couldn't find it in himself that he was acting cruel and, he shuddered at the thought, a little similar to Voldemort. Yet, he wouldn't stop; this was something that would save his own and the lives of his companions. He was in a different era, it was kill or be killed here, and he was perfectly aware of that fact, hell, it was probably therefore Gandalf had actually taken the time to teach him sword fighting.

With a grimace and a hiss of disgust he drove his sword straight through an orc's spine, hurriedly drawing it out again so he could block another sword heading his way. With a resonating clang, that could easily be felt in his wrist, he blocked it, his foot shooting out to connect with the vile thing's abdomen. Without even waiting to see if the creature fell to the ground, he ducked and swirled around to face another opponent, driving his sword into its flesh, cutting through some arteries as he did so. No need to say that the orc fell to the ground, heading for a slow and painful death.

Absentmindedly, he registered that his companions were battling the troll with a fierce determinedness, and that was only proven when the hideous thing finally fell to the ground with a loud thump. Two arrows were sticking out of its throat that indicated that it had been Legolas who had been the one to end its life. Still, no matter how much Harry wanted to turn around and run for Frodo he couldn't. He still had these orcs that he was currently fighting to deal with. And so as the rest of the fellowship ran towards Frodo he continued on fighting, cutting down orc after orc, as well as having to endure a few well placed cuts himself. The various scratches on his body and the constant pain in his shoulder, coupled with the fatigue that was catching up with him, served to make his movements more slow and predictable. By now only three orcs remained out of the ten he had been fighting, but he could easily tell that if he didn't get any help soon, those three orcs would be the end of him.

Panting, he took a step to the left, raising his sword and blocking the blow aimed for his throat. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple, revealing his weariness and encouraging his enemies to speed up their attacks. They were working like one now, instead of attacking as three different individuals, they had understood that they needed to cooperate in order to take him down, and since they were creatures that rejoiced in bloodshed, they would do anything in their power to achieve it. A loud yelp escaped him as, finally, the orcs' teamwork paid out and they managed to knock his sword out of his hands.

No need to say, he was defenseless, cornered and practically screwed.

Slowly, as his opponents advanced forward, he moved backwards, unknowingly trapping himself against the chamber's cold stone wall. As his progress backwards halted, he realized his mistake, his face turning a pale white as all the blood rushed down from it. Horror seized him as he saw the bloodthirsty and victorious glints in the orcs' eyes. There was nothing between him and they that could stop his death now, he was as vulnerable as a newborn baby, and he doubted that the hideous creatures in front of him would find it in themselves to show mercy. Closing his eyes, he prepared himself for his first meeting with death.

He didn't notice that his companions had noticed his dilemma, he didn't know that they had all, including Frodo, immediately risen from their positions on the ground, drawing their weapons with a dangerous glint in their eyes. The only thing he could focus on, the only thing that floated around in his mind was the thought that he was about to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Pained screeches, so horrifying that he wanted to cover his ears, filled the air as one of the orcs approaching suddenly fell to the ground, an arrow standing proud and tall out of the back of its neck. Green eyes flew open in surprise to take in the sight before him, though he still didn't forget the looming presence of the two other orcs, he was very confident that their attention had been guided away from him and to the more imminent threat.

The two other orcs released an enraged roar, one going to meet the new threat, while the other headed straight for Harry, a crazy glint in his eyes as if he was obsessed with ending the young wizard's life. The sound of metal grinding against metal reached Harry's ears as he barely managed to dodge the hacking motion of his attacker's sword. Again and again he dodged, rolling around on the ground, desperately trying to avoid having his chest pierced by the sharp sword.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a foot connected with his stomach, forcing the air out of him and making him curl in on himself, clutching his stomach as if that alone could force the pain away and bring him back some air. His ears rang with the constant sound of a sword fight, of the distressed yells of his companions and, finally, the triumphant, almost mocking, laughter of the orc as he raised his sword high up in the air before, swiftly, forcing it downwards in a cutting motion.

The world ceased to exist and the only thing that Harry was aware of, was the dangerously, sharp, glinting sword edge headed straight for his stomach, the orc, no doubt, wanted to prolong his suffering and therefore chose a death that would be slow and painful, instead of heading straight for the heart as one would normally do. What little breath he had, seemed to slow down to nothing as his green eyes stared at the pointy sword. He found himself wondering exactly how sharp it was; would it cut straight through his flesh without any trouble whatsoever? Or would it, perhaps, need a little help in the way wiggling it around so that the wound would become bigger, and thusly, easier to enter. He closed his eyes, preparing for the impact.

It never came.

A choked sound came from above him at the same time as a heavy weight landed on top of him, nearly squeezing the life out of him with its heaviness. Abruptly, his eyes shot open, taking in the yellow, lifeless eyes that were looking straight at him. Black blood coated his body and clothes as the liquid escaped from the wound that had, obviously, killed the creature. Panicking, he frantically tried to push the dead body off of him, cringing in disgust as he finally was able to leap up to his feet and away from the deceased orc. Hurriedly, he backed away from it, inching backwards so, finally, he was standing beside Gandalf, taking comfort in the wizard's calming presence.

"Are you alright?" The old man questioned, concerned eyes shadowed by a pair of bushy eyebrows swiveling around to gaze at his youthful companion.

"Yeah, just a little shaken up." He replied, though he immediately contradicted his words by wincing as the throbbing pain in his shoulder reminded him that all was, in fact, not well, and that he would soon have to get his injury looked at.

"Good, I'm afraid you'll have no time to recuperate, we have to leave, at once." Gandalf stated as he ushered Harry through the chamber's secret doorway, looking behind him all along to make sure that the rest of the fellowship were following. Screeches of more orcs following forced them to pick up their pace, fleeing from the battle scene, leaving behind them even more bodies than had been there before.

It wasn't necessary to say that their journey through the mines hadn't gone as well as they had hoped. The mere fact that they were running for their very lives, trying to escape a hoard of orcs that thirsted for their blood, only served to strengthen that notion. Sticks and stone seemed to nothing other than bothersome, they stuck out of the ground in the most inconvenienced places, tripping both Harry and the hobbits and slowing the fellowship's advancement forward. The shrill cries of the enemy came closer and closer as they came out on open, well as open as a mine could be, land.

Axes, spears, shields and swords were only some of the weapons that were held by the thick hands of their enemies. No matter how hard or fast they speeded forward they were still caught, trapped like rats as the orcs and goblins in large numbers surrounded them , snarling and leering, mostly at Harry, as their eyes glinted with a triumphant look.

"Steady…" Aragorn's grave voice said, encouraging them to stop their anxious shifting and instead show no fear.

A large lump had suddenly formed itself in Harry's throat, forcing him to swallow continuously in a vain attempt at making it disappear. His limbs trembled with the effort it took him to actually be able to stand on his own two feet, fear coursed through him like a drug, affecting him in the most unseemly way as was possible in the situation they currently were stuck in. Shakily, he took a few steps backwards, wanting to get as much distance as was possible between himself and the hungry eyes of the enemy. Oh, he wasn't so innocent as to not know what was on their minds, he knew perfectly well that they wanted to ravish him, to use his body in a most cruel and tainted way.

One orc, that would have seemed comical with his big yellow eyes if it hadn't been for the rest of his body, was especially intimidating. His eyes seemed to glow in an even more alarming way than those of his fellow orcs did, the indiscreet way he licked his lips sent terrified shivers down Harry's back and the jerky movements forward made him the one Harry was most worried about. But that feeling was abruptly chased away as a loud boom resonated throughout the mines, warning them that something bigger and stronger than the danger they were currently facing was heading their way. The fact that the orcs and goblins immediately froze at the sound, only seemed to confirm that fact.

And suddenly, as another boom was heard, the enemy scattered, running away with sharp, fearful cries. Silence surrounded the Fellowship as they stood there, alone and about to face the unknown. Their hearts raced as they raised their weapons, listening for any sign that the danger had come nearer. Another rumble, much closer this time, informed them that they would, indeed, have to face the new threat.

"A balrog." Legolas' voice suddenly rang, heavy with fear as the elf moved slightly backwards, closer to Harry.

"You're sure?" Gandalf suddenly asked, pale as white as his suddenly old looking eyes swiveled around to stare at the blond.

"Run, all of you! This is a foe far beyond any of your skills!" Gandalf shouted as he saw Legolas' nod. "Run!"

And run they did. Like the wind they flew across the ground, trying desperately to get away from the monster that was breathing hot air at back of their necks. Harry's hair stood on end as he, gasping for breath, followed after those in front of him, stopping for air was not an option now, listening to his screaming muscles and the pain travelling through his shoulder was not a luxury that he could afford, the only thing he could do was run. Run for his life.

Like a leopard chasing after its prey they ran, moving with a speed only a man chased by death himself could manage. The constant rumbling of the balrog behind them served to give them wings, allowing them to run without any incidents whatsoever. It truly was convenient that, for once, nothing seemed to be in the way of their escape. Darkness surrounded them as they hurried along, running through an open door only to move down a set of stairs. No one noticed the way Gandalf lingered behind them, uttering a few words to Aragorn before pushing the man before him, so great was their hurry to escape.

Relief filled them as they finally reached the final set of stairs they had been seeking, only to have that relief be washed out of them as they saw the large hole that split it in two. It seemed that none of them knew what to do until, finally, Legolas decided to jump, with a grace that left Harry feeling jealous, over the gap. Immediately, upon regaining his balance he turned around and urged the other to follow his example.

"Jump!" He shouted.

Gandalf, who had just caught up with them, didn't hesitate to do as the elf said, with a muffled grunt he pushed off the ground, showing an immense trust in the blond standing on the other side. It was over as sudden as Gandalf had decided to jump, with a soft thud the old wizard landed on the ground, steadying himself with the help of Legolas. Boromir followed next, with Merry under one arm and Pippin under the other, he released a strained yell and jumped over with all his might. And that was when it all went wrong. Harry had known that their escape had been too good to be true; he had known that it was a very unlikely thing that they wouldn't meet anything that would try to stop them from their wild run through the mines. As a large piece of rock fell down into the abyss, cutting them off even more from their escape route Harry could have sworn that he stopped breathing for a moment.

The large gap did not discourage Aragorn, though; as if he hadn't noticed the increasing crack he grabbed Sam and threw him over as if he was nothing more than a feather. The hobbit landed safely in the arms of Boromir. Harry let out a reassured breath, only to hurriedly draw it back in again as the ranger moved towards his direction.

"Don't you dare…" He warned, raising his hands up infront of his chest in a clear defensive movement.

"We don't have time for this, Harry. "The man said as he inched towards the wizard."We both know that you won't be able to get over there without some help. Now stop being difficult and let me help you."

Without waiting for the young man to yield, Aragorn grabbed his waist and effortlessly lifted him up off the ground and threw him into the air. A scream, muffled by Harry covering his own mouth with his right hand, erupted from the young man's throat, snakes twisted around in his stomach as he suddenly felt the effect of gravity kicking in, forcing him down to the ground once again. With horror he closed his eyes, convinced that he would meet his death. He didn't; in fact, his landing was nothing but soft as he was surrounded by a pair of arms.

"Don't worry, I got you." Boromir whispered into his ear as he gently lowered him to the ground.

There was, however, no time to be grateful, for in that exact moment Gimli, with a great roar, threw himself over the gap, a triumphant and proud grin on his face as he came nearer and nearer to the side Harry was currently standing on. And as he watched the dwarf's flailing limbs in the air one thought struck his mind.

Dwarves were too proud for their own good.

The world continued moving along as Gimli finally landed on the other side, though he did need the help of Legolas in form of the elf dragging him onto safe grounds by his beard, Harry could still hear the dwarf grumbling about the abuse as, suddenly, a great roar echoed throughout the caves. The balrog was getting closer. Harry trembled at the mere presence of it; it wasn't something he would want to face. Yet here he was, running from it with an overwhelming fear coursing through his veins.

At the moment, Harry hated his life more than anything.

A loud cracking noise filled his ears as a large piece of rock, due to the vibrations from the balrog's footsteps, tore loose from the ceiling, dropping down right behind Aragorn and Frodo, cutting off any chance of going back. Even from where Harry was standing he could see the drastic way in which Frodo's face turned white. It wasn't an understatement to say that the hobbit was nothing less than terrified, as was proper in such a dangerous and hopeless situation, the slight swaying of the rock they were standing on only served to worsen their situation so much more. Though surprisingly enough, or perhaps not so surprising when considering exactly who he was, Aragorn kept his cool, seemingly not at all affected by their discouraging position.

A half choked cry escaped the confounds of Harry's mouth as the mauled part of the staircase swayed dangerously close to the side, nearly tipping over and throwing its occupants down into the dark chasm beneath them. It was nerve-wracking to stand there, having no other choice than to be an observer rather than a participator, his stomach rolled at every movement the cut off rock made. His heart and lungs seemed to be working too fast for their own good, he had the vague notion that if they were to speed up any more they would collapse in exhaustion, not an ideal thing considering their dilemma. If he had been able to look into a mirror he would have seen that his eyes had taken on a light green hue, shining with fear, fatigue, and anxiousness.

The sound of Aragorn shouting caught his attention, steering his mind from his own feelings and towards the actions of the ring bearer and the ranger. The staircase's movement had become decidedly wider, rocking back and forth as the balrog, surrounded by flames as it was, came nearer, looming over them like a great cloud, the only thing keeping it from reaching them was the sturdy stone wall that separated them. The sound of rock grinding against rock filled his ears as he watched as Frodo and Aragorn prepared themselves for the great leap, moving along with every movement the unsteady ground they stood upon made. It was as if they were standing upon a weight that, no matter what they did, would never become steady.

The stone connected with the staircase with a resonating boom.

The world turned into a hurried blur.


	11. Death Of A Loved One

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Not very much to warn about here.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **It's all for you my lovelies!

* * *

_"The idea of death, the fear of it, haunts the human animal like nothing else; it is a mainspring of human activity - designed largely to avoid the fatality of death, to overcome it by denying in some way that it is the final destiny of man." - Ernest Becker,_ _1924 - 1974. _

* * *

**Chapter 11:**

**Death of a Loved One**

It occurred to Harry, as he watched Gandalf face the balrog head on, with his sword held in one hand and his staff in the other, that he had never really felt fear. He had never felt the kind of feeling that festered itself into his bones, that threatened to overtake him with its overwhelming presence. He had never experienced the kind of fear that came with watching a loved one sacrificing himself for your own well being, until now, that is. Yet, despite the devastating urge to break free of Aragorn's grip, to run to Gandalf's aid, he couldn't do it. All his strength seemed to have left him as the only thing he could do was stand and watch. Watch as Gandalf fought the terrifying monster that had revealed itself to them, watch as the bridge was split in two and yet as the balrog fell down into the abyss, disappearing from sight no comfort was brought to him. He still had the same unnerving feeling that had welled up inside him the moment Gandalf had halted and turned to face the danger that was after them. And, god damn it, he cursed himself for being without his wand, without the one thing that, perhaps, could have helped his fellow wizard.

It would seem that his instincts were, once again, to be trusted. For in that very moment, a fiery whip flew up from the deep, latching itself onto the old wizard's ankle and with a mighty wrench Gandalf was dragged over the edge, barely hanging on and keeping himself from death. Harry froze. Not a single sound, not even the slightest of whimpers, escaped his throat as the old wizard's gaze connected with his own. With horror and slight astonishment Harry realized that his beloved friend, his mentor was afraid. For the first time since he'd first met the good natured man Harry saw fright in his eyes.

And then, just as the grey haired man mouthed something to him, his grip slipped and Gandalf was dragged down into the darkness to join the balrog that was there waiting for him. The world was once again moving and a throaty scream, filled with anguish fought its way through Harry's throat and over his tongue to spill across his lips. The feeling he was now experiencing, Harry realized, was pure torment and distress and it seemed as if nothing could ever chase it away.

He didn't think, didn't speak as black arrows rained down from the sky, showering them with deathly weapons as he, along with Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas dragged the hobbits away from danger and their certain death. His movements were stiff and unnatural as he was torn between the desire to run back and throw himself over the edge of the cliff in hopes of, by some kind of miracle, saving their lost friend or do the sensible thing and look to the future and rather save the grief stricken hobbits. Honestly, it took every ounce of self-restraint in his body to keep himself from running back.

Sunlight abruptly flooded his sight, nearly blinding him with its strength and suddenness. A flush of fresh air flooded his airways, a welcome change from the heavy and old air lingering in the mines. The sky was disturbed by the presence of a couple of looming clouds that were dark and ominous simply by their looks, let alone the storm they brought with them. His whole body, his whole being felt weary as he, with a final show of strength, the last one he had in his body, heaved Sam over to a rock. He collapsed on the ground with a breathy groan, closing his eyes as he danced dangerously close to the bridge of unconsciousness. Sharp stabs of pain shot through his shoulder, the blood he'd lost served to make him dizzy and the fact that he hadn't gotten a goodnights sleep in days, maybe even weeks, this had all drained his energy out of him as quickly as a sponge sucked up any moisture around it.

He was never allowed to plunge himself into the darkness that was oblivion though, Aragorn seemingly unaffected by any of the things that had happened broke the heavy silence with two simple words. "Get up."

"For goodness sake! Allow them a moment to grieve!" Boromir's voice suddenly rang throughout the air. "Do you not think that their efforts and clear sorrow is deserving of it?!"

"I would give them the time if we had it." Aragorn calmly replied, lifting Pippin to his feet and making sure that the hobbit was able to hold himself up before turning toward Boromir. "By nightfall these mountains will be swarming with orcs, we do not have the time to grieve for the loss of Gandalf."

A choked sob sounded from Sam as Gandalf's name was mentioned. Clenching his hands into tight fists Harry's teeth latched onto his lower lip, abusing it without relent as he forced himself up from his position on the ground pushing back a whimper that threatened to escape him as he did. He swayed for a short moment after he had finally managed to stand on his own feet, fighting to keep his feet from collapsing on him. Shaking his head he straightened to his full height, thankful that the world was no longer spinning around him. He could easily, as easily as walking around with an injured shoulder was, make his way towards the hobbit that had chosen to linger away from the rest of the Fellowship.

"Frodo," He whispered, looking upon the hobbit with a sad gaze.

The small body tensed immediately upon hearing the young wizard's voice. It almost seemed as if Frodo was preparing an attack of some sort.

"Could you have saved him?" His voice sounded hoarse, as if it hadn't been unused as the hobbit refused to look at him, instead preferring to look at the scenery before them.

"I-I didn't have my…wand." Harry stated, cursing himself as he stuttered slightly.

"Answer the question," Frodo said, turning around to glare at the young man with a gaze that screamed accusations. "Could you have saved him?!"

"If I'd had my wand, then…" Green eyes flickered from the hobbit to the ground. "Yes."

Harry hated the sudden silence that stretched between them, he hated the way his voice went up a notch as he answered Frodo's question, he hated the way the world seemed to be against them and most of all he hated himself for being so weak as he was. By allowing Gandalf to die without even trying to use wandless magic he had betrayed them all, no one in the fellowship, with exception of him, could have saved him. Gandalf's death was entirely on Harry.

"So Gandalf died because _you _didn't have your silly wand?" It was made quite clear to Harry as Frodo approached him, rage painted across his face, that the hobbit wholly blamed Harry, that he thought Harry to be the reason why they were now one man down.

To be honest Harry agreed with him in every aspect.

"Yes."

"He trusted you!"Frodo roared. "He loved you and all you have to say is yes!?"

Chaos erupted as the small hobbit launched himself at the young wizard, flying through the air the small body connected with Harry's petite frame with a heavy thud, knocking Harry's breath out of his body as he landed on the hard ground, barely managing to raise his hands to protect himself from the blows delivered to him by Frodo's clenched fists. A pained gasp escaped him as flesh met flesh and a throbbing pain spread through his right cheek. Tears collected in his eyes as he allowed Frodo to take out his sorrow on his body, meeting the physical abuse with nothing but grunts, gasps and muffled cries of pain.

The assault was finally halted as Aragorn and Boromir dragged the furious hobbit off of the wizard, watching with confused eyes as the raven haired male lay on the ground, not making a single move to get up, as if defeated. Emerald green eyes were closed, hiding Harry's feelings from the world as his chest moved up and down in a steady rhythm.

"You didn't even try." Frodo's hoarse voice rang through the air, slamming against Harry's ear drums, despite the fact that it wasn't louder than a whisper.

"I know." His voice was dead, not a single emotion could be heard within it.

"Why?" The hobbit was defeated as he hung his head, slumping in Aragorn and Boromir's grip.

"I don't know."

* * *

Silence ruled as the fellowship made their way through a thick forest, moving around broad tree trunks, ducking as unexpected branches came in their way and looking around them with a suspicious air about them. Ever since the happenings in the mountains had occurred a tense atmosphere had developed between them. Frodo was kept in the front of the party, watched over by Aragorn, while Harry was kept at the back, accompanied by the ever faithful dwarf. A slight bruise had begun to form on the young wizard's right cheek bone as evidence of the accusations and abuse thrown at him.

They had been travelling for several hours now, moving under the constant worry that orcs and goblins could be upon them in an instant, ready to tear their intestines out, ready to spill their blood and rid the world of them. They were all worn down but they couldn't afford to take a break. If they did they would lose what little head start they had, making it even easier for the enemy to track them down. The whole day had finally begun to wear him down, the constant pain in his shoulder, the disgusting feeling of walking in clothes coated in someone else's blood and the fatigue that had settled in his very bones the moment they had exited the mines of Moria had seemingly defeated him.

His argument with Legolas and his worries about Gollum, even his thoughts about getting home seemed insignificant when compared to the happenings of the last 24 hours. In a matter of few hours a large split had been created between the fellowship and Harry and Gimli, who had decided to stay by Harry's side when the others didn't. In a way Harry felt nothing but gratitude towards the dwarf for being so good to him. Gandalf had been precious to the dwarf as well, but despite Frodo's loud accusations, that had reached the rest of the fellowship's ears, Gimli had stayed with him, supporting him when he got tired, helping him along the way when the blood loss began to get to him and giving him comfort when Frodo's piercing glares became too much. He felt pathetic at the way he leaned so fully on the Dwarf's supporting shoulders.

He was perfectly aware of the fact that Legolas had become more and more persistent, constantly trying to get close to the young wizard only to be hindered by Gimli's brusque presence. It was clear to him that the elf was trying very hard to make up for his harsh words outside of Moria and that he was beginning to grow quite frustrated when he wasn't able to do it. Something told Harry that the blond elf wasn't used to not getting his way. A sneer tainted his features as he thought of it. Perhaps it would do him some good to realize that he wouldn't always get what he wanted in life. Perhaps it would teach him a lesson and bring him down a notch. Immediately, upon thinking the thought, Harry dropped his eyes to the ground, ashamed of himself for thinking such things. For all he knew Legolas could have been raised to act in such a way, just as Harry had been raised to being submissive and to never believe that he was worth more than the Dursleys.

"They say a great sorceress lives in these woods, an Elf-witch with terrible powers. All who look upon her fall under her spell I've heard." Gimli suddenly said, breaking the silence that had lingered for so long.

"But not to worry," the dwarf said as he grabbed Harry's hand with his own. "Here is one dwarf she will not ensnare so easily!"

A small smile unexpectedly made its way onto Harry's face as he leaned slightly into his friend, "I'm sure, Gimli that she wouldn't dare to try to take on such a great dwarf like you."

Beaming, the dwarf raised his axe, allowing it to rest on his shoulder as he tightened his grip on the young wizard's hand, "Ah yes, I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox! Nothing will pass us by without my knowing it!"

And then, just as he finished his sentence a sharp arrow was notched right in front of Harry's face, gleaming in the slight sunlight as if it was eager to bury itself in the raven haired boy's head. Abruptly, the whole fellowship was surrounded by bows and arrows. Elves in all shapes and sizes, but mostly with blond hair, stared at them, some curious, while others were more hostile. Swallowing the steadily growing lump in his throat, Harry dropped Gimli's hand, moving a small step forward so he was standing slightly between the dwarf and the new arrivals.

It was no surprise that as soon as he moved most eyes settled down upon him, taking in his dark hair and his unusual green, almost glowing, eyes. One of the elves stepped forward, establishing himself as the leader as he moved uncomfortably close to Harry's stiff frame. Blue eyes curiously trailed up and down his body, taking in every single line, every single detail as the elf's nostrils flared slightly as he discreetly took in the young man's sent. A small smirk settled down upon the elf's thin lips as he turned his gaze from Harry to the rest of the fellowship.

"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark." A small thrill raced up and down his spine as the elf's melodious voice reached Harry's ears. "It is a wonder you have come as far as this."

A growl rumbled from Gimli at the insult, only to be halted as Harry lightly hit his shoulder, sending him a warning glance, it wouldn't do for them to upset the ones in front of them even further. Silence once again reigned as the blond paced back and forward, taking them all in as he seemed to consider something. Several times Harry caught the elf's eyes lingering a little longer on him than was usual, a fascinated and amused glint seemed to light his blue eyes each time he was caught. It almost seemed as if the elf was entertained by it, by him. And each time it happened it seemed as if his amusement, along with Harry's annoyance, rose.

Finally, as he finished his inspection of them, the elf spoke, "Come with us."

There was left no room for argument, an order had been issued and it was painfully clear that it was one they were expected to obey. And they did, as soon as the blond turned away from them, moving in the same direction as they had originally been heading for, they followed him, not wanting to lose sight of him when he was the one that could lead them to safety. The group would have been a strange sight to any passer bys as they moved through the forest, split into four different groups. The leader elf, flanked by two other elves were in the lead, the two men and four hobbits followed behind them as Harry and Gimli walked a short distance after them again, Legolas joined by the rest of the elves made up the rear, talking softly between themselves. It would seem that Legolas, unlike the rest of the fellowship, was welcomed and fit right in.

Moss and sticks crackled under his feet, making him feel particularly ungraceful when compared to the many elves surrounding him. He had always known that he wasn't the most refined of people, but that fact was made painfully clear when he walked in the middle of a group of elves like this. Usually he wouldn't have cared, but there was something in the way they were observing him that made him self-conscious. Their scrutinizing eyes made him want to look his best, even though he had never been one for trying to impress other people. Perhaps that was just the effect elves had on other races; their beauty and perfection were, after all, intimidating and it was only logical that, when faced with such flawlessness, he would want to look at least half as good as them.

He realized that it was a silly thing to be thinking about in their situation, but he found that it helped to move his thoughts away from the more depressing thoughts, giving him a slight reprieve from his rather dark existence. If anyone else had been in the same situation as he, he was sure that they wouldn't blame him; they would have done just as he, wanting to escape the harsh reality for just a moment and wallow in his own mind.

A small snort from his left brought him out of his own musings. Gimli, looking like a stormy cloud was hanging over his head, was grumbling, shooting glares at the elves before them as he murmured to himself 'stupid elves' and 'as if they could beat a dwarf' and such things. It was easy to say that the dwarf was still upset about the insult and how it had, in his mind, ruined his glorious appearance in front of his companions, but more importantly, in front of Harry. Gimli had never had much fondness for elves, but when they made him look like a fool in front of one of his prized friends that lack of fondness turned into loathing. The dwarf had never been tolerant when it came to looking foolish, even less so if an elf was involved, and not in the way Gimli preferred an elf to be involved in. He rather enjoyed the situation when it was they, and not him, who were humiliated. Though that wasn't a secret, it was widely known how tense the relationship between dwarves and elves were.

Harry, who, other than the elves of Rivendell, hadn't gotten a favorable impression of them, found that he was leaning more towards the dwarves' side of the conflict, agreeing with them that some, not all, but some elves could be too proud and arrogant for their own good. They didn't care much about races other than themselves and the vast amount of elves that had left the shores for the grey havens only enforced that as the truth, if they could abandon the rest of middle-earth's population for their own safety, then it was quite clear that they didn't think much of Men or dwarves. The Istari, of course, had their respect, but they were too few to be accounted for in this case. Five, with Harry in addition, wasn't a large number, after all.

The sight of a ladder hanging down from a humongous tree was enough to distract him from his thoughts on the elves. With fascination he watched as an elf, with swift grace that made it seem like child's play, climbed up the ladder without showing a single hint of finding it to be difficult. The rest of the elves, including Legolas did much the same, varying in what type of gracefulness, some radiated masculinity, while others had a hint of delicacy to them, in which they moved. It made Harry dread the moment when he would have to move up the ladder; his movements would surely seem clumsy and inexperienced compared to theirs. His only comfort was that the other mortals in his company would certainly be just as clumsy as he.

With that in his mind he took a secure hold of the coarse rope the ladder was made out of, tightening it to an almost painful degree as he carefully drew himself up from the ground, his feet dangling in the air for a short moment before he placed them securely on the steps. Methodically, he climbed upwards, drawing in sharp breaths now and then when his shoulder was jolted too much. He still hadn't gotten it looked at and the ever present danger of it getting infected lingered at the back of his mind. He would have to get it looked at during the night, he decided as he finally reached the top, reluctantly accepting the help offered to him, resulting in him being lifted up on the sturdy wood platform, only to be gently released right after.

The fact that the elf, immediately upon dropping him, stepped back as if he had some sort of transitive disease and looking in every direction other than in Harry's, made him even more uncomfortable than he originally had been. A frigid tension developed in the air as the stood there, silence ruling as they waited for the rest of the fellowship to appear, and all the while Harry was painfully aware of how Legolas had, the moment Harry had been dropped onto his own two feet, moved closer to him, standing behind him and slightly to his right, almost brushing up against him. Harry had the vague, yet strange, notion that the elf was somehow trying to keep the other elves away from him, almost as if he was staking his claim. He scoffed at the notion, it was a ridiculous thought that the blond would actually dare to do such a thing when he was perfectly aware of how Harry had reacted when he had come even remotely close to doing it. Harry was confident that the elf would realize that if he were to do so than his chance of winning back Harry's forgiveness was as good as none. It was with that thought in his head, that the young wizard dismissed all suspicions of being claimed and remained blissfully oblivious to the fact that it was, indeed, exactly that that was happening.

The first head to peek over the edge of the platform after his own was Boromir's ragged appearance, destroying the tense silence that had developed as he, with grunts and a few muffled curses, clumsily flipped himself onto the safety of the stand. One by one they joined them, some looking breathless, while others looked as if they'd done nothing more than a light walk through a park. Blankets were spread out, food was given to everyone and an almost melancholy silence stretched between them all as they settled down for the night. Whispers could be heard as the leader elf, now known as Haldir, and Aragorn stood a little away from the rest of the group, obviously arguing about something if their heated voices were an indication. If it wasn't for the fact that they were conversing in elvish and not common language, as he'd learned English was named here, he would have been able to listen in, but as it was he didn't know a single word in elvish and so it wasn't to be. Instead he made himself comfortable, wrapping his blanket around him as he leaned against the harsh bark of the tree trunk, closing his eyes as he shut the rest of the world out.

He didn't know when, but sometime during the evening he must have drifted off, falling asleep leaning against that thick tree trunk as his tense features smoothed out into a relaxed expression, for when he woke up the sun was once again shining and he was gently woken by Gimli shaking him awake. Apparently, they had reached an agreement when he had been asleep and they were now to follow the elves to speak with their lord and lady. They would be leaving the platform within an hour.

It was only when they had been walking for quite some time that Harry realized that he'd forgotten to get his injury checked on, he was paying for it with every step he took. Sweat pimpled out on his forehead, running down his right temple and across his cheek before ending its journey when it dropped from his chin. His teeth grinded against each other as he did everything he could to not voice his predicament, keeping up with the company had begun to get harder and harder now, but he wouldn't admit to a weakness, not when they were surrounded by strangers. The elves may have proven to them that they wished them no harm, but Harry still couldn't open up and bare himself by revealing his weaknesses. It would make him too vulnerable for his liking.

Breathing heavily, Harry forced himself to pick up speed, ignoring the concerned look sent his way by Gimli as he walked up alongside the dwarf. If he'd been able to look in a mirror he would have been able to see exactly how pale he had become during their journey, despite the fact that not an ounce of blood, due to the blood dried up on his wound, escaped him. It was mostly due to that fact that he'd been able to deceive his companions for as long as he'd done. The thing was that he was starting to reach his limit. His limbs were growing heavier, the metallic taste of blood had begun forming in his mouth and he felt the need for water and rest increase with every step he took. It wouldn't be long now, and he would have to toss in the towel, give up, and admit that he wasn't as strong as he wanted them to believe and go against his own pride and allow Aragorn to tend to his wound. The mere thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

In the future he would realize exactly how foolish and dangerous his thinking was, nearly sacrificing his life for his pride wasn't one of the smartest things he would do in his life, but that was in the future, not here, not now and so he continued to stupidly bite his teeth together and endure the pain. A small hand suddenly grabbed a hold of his injured arm, jerking it slightly as he was forced to stop moving, turning around he was faced with the sight of a guilty looking Frodo. A small, unnoticeable grimace discreetly flitted across his face before he abruptly covered it up, allowing the small hobbit to lead him away from the rest of the group, earning them a few odd looks on their way.

"I-I'm sorry…" Frodo said as he came to a stop, turning so he could look Harry straight in the eyes. "I didn't mean what I said when I blamed you for G-Gandalf's death, it was unfair of me and I apologize."

"It's alright." Harry choked out, averting his gaze away from the hobbit.

"No-no it's not!" The ring bearer shouted, drawing the rest of their company's attention. "You loved Gandalf just as much as I did, perhaps even more. It's not alright; it's never alright to be blamed of a loved one's death!"

By now tears were brimming in the small male's light eyes. "You should hate me for saying what I said! For accusing you of what I did, it's not alright!!"

"Do you want me to hate you?" Harry dispassionately questioned, lifting a single eyebrow skeptically.

"No…" The hobbit whispered as he suddenly deflated, not looking at the wizard for more than a single moment before looking away.

"Then don't encourage me to." Said Harry harshly, being more ruthless and unfeeling than he had intended.

Regretting his own behavior, he immediately softened his features, looking at the hobbit with gentle eyes, "All is forgiven, Frodo, don't worry about it."

The small male didn't say anything, only nodded with a tiny, hesitant, smile as he followed the young man back to the rest of their group. Things were far from being solved, but Harry found that he didn't quite have it in him to clean up all his problems. He was too worn, too tired to deal with them. The prospect of a bath and a warm bed to lie in was getting more and more tempting, much more so than staying in the wilderness while having heart to heart talks.

A hiss escaped the confinements of his mouth as a particularly painful jolt raced through his shoulder. The pain was enough for his step to falter for a small second, which, again, was enough to alert his companions of how not everything was as it should be. In an instant Legolas was by his side, keeping him from moving anymore as Aragorn approached with swift movements, a concerned glint in his usually calm eyes. Things were beginning to fall down all around him. Nothing worked out as it should have. He had failed, horribly so and as he stood there, numb as Aragorn reprimanded him and tended to his wound. Harry realized that he was beginning to get stretched, stretched so far that it was a wonder he still existed.

"How long?" Aragorn whispered to him as he smeared some sort of ointment on his wound. "How long have you been hiding this from us?!"

"Since Balin's tomb…" Harry replied as he allowed a slight wince show on his face as Aragorn abruptly put more pressure on his wound than strictly was necessary.

"What?!"The ranger roared. "How foolish can you be, Harry?! Hiding something as important as this from us isn't very wise. What if the wound had been poisoned and you fell ill because of it? What kind of a situation do you think we then would have on our hands?!"

He truly felt as if he was a child being reprimanded by his parents, the guilty and humiliated feeling that rushed through him like a great storm was overwhelming, forcing a slight blush on his cheeks as he stood there, taking it all without uttering a single syllable. This, he realized, wasn't a time for arguing. Strangely enough he realized that what he had done was wrong, that it had been stupid and dangerous and certainly not a way a responsible adult, no matter how much they would have wanted to keep their pride intact, would have acted. Yet, even though he did understand that he had been in the wrong, being reminded of it was like having a sack of feathers emptied on him when he was already covered in tar.

Complete and utter mortification.


	12. Revelations

**Title: **Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **None.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **The title says it all! = D

* * *

_"I have become my own version of an optimist. If I can't make it through one door, I'll go through another door - or I'll make a door. Something terrific will come no matter how dark the present." - Joan Rivers, 1933 -??_

* * *

Revelations

Secrets.

The whole world was made out of secrets. Lies, manipulations and deceptions. No matter where in the world you went looking it could always be found, not a single corner in the world was without it. Some people earned their living because of it, some lost everything they've ever had, and some despised it but had them anyway, while others relished them, delighted the power it could give them. Secrets were what made the world spin around and no one could escape them. Whether they were the ones that kept them or revealed them they would always, in some way, be caught up in them.

It was unavoidable.

Harry found, as he stared into the stunningly intense eyes of Lady Galadriel that all his secrets were bared before him, being exposed to her against his own will. Every thought, every dream he'd had as he grew up were now within her knowledge, she knew everything about him, some things that even he didn't know. It was all there in her eyes, the small knowledgeable twinkle betrayed her, telling him exactly how much she really knew.

And Harry, who had always kept his secrets locked tightly inside himself, felt true panic well up inside of him, threatening to overtake him, to force him to run away, to hide and not have to face the world. But he couldn't, no matter how much his mind screamed for him to do it; his body was frozen, unmoving as those eyes reeled him in, nearly drowning him. Every moment he had lived through came to life, played like an old movie in front of his eyes. He was confronted by his past, by his parents' death, by Cedric's death and by every bad thing that had ever happened to him. It was terrifying. It was emotional. It was everything Harry had hoped that he wouldn't have to live through.

A tremble rocked his body.

Tears clouded his vision.

His breath came in gasps…

And his heart thumped so loud and fiercely that Harry thought it a wonder that it didn't collapse from exhaustion.

He stumbled back a few steps.

His ears rang with the heartbreaking scream of his mother.

His vision was filled with the image of Gandalf falling…

And his mind was in an uproar, so chaotic, in fact, that he was on the verge of going insane, of losing his mind and falling into the depths of the darkness that haunted him so.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land." The beautiful she-elf whispered in her melodic voice, looking at Harry as realization seemed to hit her head on. "He has fallen into shadow…"

The whole company fell into an uncomfortable silence as the elves present took in their lady's words. It was a widely known fact that elves weren't used to death, they were immortal, they never became sick, the only way they could die was by an injury and that was a rare occasion, so when something like this happened it was only natural that they didn't know how to handle the situation. For all their knowledge, death was something they just couldn't comprehend. No tears were felled, no anguished faces, only confusion could be seen in their perfect frames.

It would have been nice, Harry mused, to not be able to understand death. If you didn't understand it then that meant that you had never witnessed it, if you hadn't witnessed it then you hadn't felt the pain that came along with it. Harry understood it. Harry had witnessed it and most of all Harry had felt the pain that accompanied it. As a matter of fact, that exact pain was fresh in his heart; Gandalf's death had forced him to once again confront death, to confront everything that arrived with it. He could easily say that elves were some lucky bastards.

Diverting his gaze from that of Galadriel's, he wrapped his right arm around his stomach. Nothing good would come out of lingering on the dark thoughts in his mind, but he found that he couldn't quite keep himself from thinking them, too much had happened at once. He was frantic for a distraction and, unfortunately enough, those gloomy thoughts was the only thing that could keep him from letting the situation, the death, everything, overwhelm him. It was as if thinking negative gave him some sort of vacation from the world around him, allowing him to breathe for a moment, even though it was polluted air he inhaled. He would accept any, _any_, method just so that he could escape reality. It didn't matter to him anymore.

"Escaping the world isn't something that will help you find your way, Harry Potter." The lady spoke, her beautiful eyes connecting with Harry's in an intense stare.

"Who says I'm trying to escape?" Harry calmly retorted, doing everything in his power to keep his chaotic mind from showing.

"It's all there, in your mind, like an open book for me to read." Galadriel stated, a small smile lingering on her stunning features. "Does that bother you?"

"No not at all." Harry drawled, his voice drenched heavily with sarcasm. "There's nothing I enjoy more than having a stranger mess around in my head."

"Good." She replied, well aware that the young wizard hadn't meant any of the words he had uttered.

With a grace that was unearthly the lady took a step forward, steadily approaching Harry. A delicate hand moved up to caress his face. A low growl, seemingly coming out of nowhere, was issued the moment her skin touched his, resonating through the air. Galadriel immediately retracted her hand and took several steps backwards, only stopping when she was back by her mate's side. A mixture of surprise and satisfaction could be seen on her face as her eyes went from Harry's face and a point behind him. Harry had the strangest feeling that someone in the group was having a face off.

The tension could easily be felt and no one dared to move.

Clenching his hands into tight fists, Harry took a step forward, clearing his throat as he prepared himself to break the silence that had developed between them all only to be halted by an arm wrapping around his waist, dragging him back against a warm, defined chest. A heavy chin settled down on the top of his head, forcing him to tuck the rest of his head into the man's neck. His whole being froze as another growl sounded through the air, rumbling from the man's chest and vibrating through Harry's body. It was clear to everyone in the room that it was a warning to stay away.

Stunned silence joined the tension, making the air so thick that Harry could have sworn that a knife could have cut through it.

"I never knew," Harry spoke as he managed to shake himself out of his stupor. "That I was some cute teddy bear for everyone to cuddle with."

With that he drew his right foot into the air before allowing it to descend with more force than usually, stomping on the man's foot in order to get him to let go. It did nothing more than cause the man to shuffle slightly, not once relenting his grip on the young wizard. A frustrated cry escaped Harry as he violently trashed around, doing everything in his power to get away. In the end he ended up as a flushed, panting mass of flesh.

"Don't." Legolas' voice whispered in his ear, his hot breath washing over his lobe, sending shivers down his spine. "Just let me keep her from touching you again. After that I'll release you."

Green eyes took in the scene before him. Galadriel seemed both amused and weary as if she had known it was going to happen but was unsure of how to act. Celeborn, as regal as ever, had taken a step forward, half shielding his mate behind him as his blue eyes was focused on the two before him. The air was thick with apprehension as the elf behind him waited for his decision with bated breath.

A sigh escaped him as his body relaxed, leaning against Legolas', trusting the elf to keep him steady. "Alright." He relented. "But if you so much as touch anything that shouldn't be touched or say anything that shouldn't be said, I swear I'll push one of the trees around here so far up your ass that you'll never manage to locate it again."

"Of course." The blond replied, seemingly unaffected by the snarled threat.

* * *

Leaves rustled as the wind swiftly moved between trees, the forest came to life as animals that usually came out when the darkness crept upon them, crawling out of their hiding places to hunt food, socialize and mate. Owls, which reminded him painfully much about Hedwig, hooted and flew about, now and then diving towards the ground before quickly moving up to the sky again, a rodent clutched in its sharp claws. Nature, it seemed, made herself more known when night fell upon them than in the day when humans, elves and dwarves roamed about. Some would perhaps have called it magical, saying that it wasn't always that you got to experience nature in its fullest.

Maybe they were right, maybe this was one of the best things in life. It really was a shame that Harry couldn't appreciate it as much as he would have liked. His sour mood, which had somehow developed sometime between their meeting and arriving in their camp, seemed to turn everything into something darker; things didn't seem as fantastic as they really were. The sight of him, Harry mused, must have been incredibly pathetic. His hair was matted, strands clinging to each other in layers. Dark circles ran heavily under his eyes, drawing down his whole face. His clothes were stained with both blood and dirt and were shredded to pieces, he was nearly unrecognizable.

"You know, if you're planning on staying out here all night, you really should bring a blanket with you." Boromir's voice rang through the air as the man stepped out of the shadows, a slight smile covering his face as he moved to stand infront of the distraught wizard. "You could risk falling ill."

"I'm fine." Harry answered shortly, a hint of crankiness in his voice as he grimaced at the feeling of dried blood nipping at his skin.

"Really?" The Gondorian questioned, running a glove covered hand through his tangled hair. "You don't seem fine; in fact, I don't think I've ever seen you as troubled as you are now."

"Well, I'm sorry to say that you're wrong." Harry bit back, glaring up at the man as if to prove him wrong with his gaze only. "I'm peachy, can't you see it by the way I'm dancing around in the forest while singing happy songs?"

"Hmm…Oh yes, I can see it now. That's some nice twirls you're doing." The amusement was practically radiating off him as Harry's glare intensified even further. "Seriously, Harry, you should come back to the camp. You need rest just as much as others do, you're not invincible you know."

"I know." Harry stated. "It's just…It's a little cramped at the camp, you know?"

"Don't worry about that, my friend." Boromir replied. "We'll make room for you."

* * *

It had seemed like a dream come true the first time he'd seen the beautiful young man that was Harry Potter. Everything inside him seemed drawn to him, jealousy rose from within him every time he saw him with another man, or a woman for that sake. The moment he'd seen him he had become addicted. He had immediately recognized this lovely creature as his mate.

He had pictured a future with Harry, the worry of having to live without him when he died was nonexistent. Harry was a wizard and wizard's had nearly as long a lifespan as elves had, Gandalf was, after all, a proof of that. The long haired elf had been prepared to woo his mate with everything he had and the happenings on top of Caradhras had seemed like a blessing, the feel of his lovely mate's body moving against his own had been heavenly and the sounds he'd made… oh the sounds… but he was getting off track, the point was that Legolas had been every bit prepared to court his mate, to persuade him that he was the one that Harry was meant to be with, he was the one who could bring him eternal happiness, who could love him the way he deserved to be loved. No one else, only Legolas could do that for him.

And yet, he wasn't the one that was comforting him. He wasn't the one that was convincing him to come back to the group and rest. No, the one that was standing across the clearing with his beautiful mate was Boromir, not Legolas, but the man from Gondor. It was excruciating to stand there, his own mind mocking him. How foolish he had been, to think that Harry would realize on his own exactly who he belonged to. He would have to tell him, inform him of how much he loved him, how he longed to hold him in his arms and keep him safe.

A quiet growl escaped him as Boromir wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, guiding him towards their camp and leaving him utterly alone in the large forest. His original intent of going out in the woods had been to think, to mull over his next move and decide how he was going to win Harry's forgiveness. It had been by pure chance that he had come upon the scene he had just now witnessed and he didn't know whether to be happy about it or not. On one hand it had helped him decide to confront his elusive mate, but it had also led to these aggressive feelings, these feelings that he didn't know how to handle. Legolas had always been proud of being in tune with his emotions, but he had never experienced the negative sentiments that accompanied jealousy. He had, to be frank, no idea of how to control these feelings.

It was as if he was walking blind, relying on his other senses as he walked on a path full of dangers. One wrong step and it could have fatal consequences, one misstep and he could risk losing Harry for eternity. The mere thought was agonizing, it brought a sharp pressure to his heart as if it was threatening to collapse if something like that was to happen. He had heard stories of elves that died when losing their mate. He had heard that losing their love, their one and only brought them so much pain that it was too much for their hearts to take and so it collapsed because of the pressure, the longing. His own father had nearly died because of it, the only thing that had saved him from the darkness was his mother's decision to leave for the gray havens, had she stayed any longer death would have caught up with her, and thusly caught up with his father as well. As an elfling he had wondered how it was that someone could die because of losing their mates, but now, as he was right in the middle of such a situation himself, he could easily understand it.

Legolas would rather die than live without his beloved mate.

Now the only thing he had to do was tell Harry the truth, inform him of what Legolas, Gandalf and Lord Elrond had kept from him for so long. Lady Galadriel's words earlier that evening had only confirmed it. Harry needed him, just as much as Legolas needed Harry, the wizard just hadn't realized it yet. And it was Legolas' responsibility to make him realize it. It was he, and no other, that was going to inform the young wizard of his status, of his place in Legolas' life. It would happen tonight, tonight and not a moment later.

Turning around, he walked back the same way he had come with determined steps, prepared to enter their camp and ask for a moment of Harry's time. Even if he denied him that time he wouldn't give up, it was too important for Harry to know this, if he was denied a moment with his mate then he would have to take a moment of his time. He would not stand idly by and watch as Harry was wooed by another man. He would not accept his own death without fighting and he would be damned before he stopped fighting for Harry. Elves were, despite what other races believed, passionate beings and when they loved someone they loved them with their heart, soul and mind. They mated for life and there was only one person out there for them. Through their long lives love would only manifest in them once and that love was so strong that if they lost it, they didn't have enough love within them to do it again. Legolas swore that his fate would not be the same as so many other elves he had seen. He would win his love, keep his love and nothing was going to keep him away from him.

With a graceful air about him he ducked under a branch, moving closer and closer to the camp until he was, finally, within hearing distance. Unlike their night spent with Haldir and his men the chatter was more animated, the hobbits' laughs could be heard from a long distance as they sat around the fire, talking to each other, joking and raising the mood of the group.

No one seemed to pay much attention to Legolas as he silently walked into the campsite, finding himself a vacant seat beside Aragorn, which, unfortunately, was located as far away from Harry as he could get. The fact that Boromir and Gimli were sitting beside his mate,_ laughing_ with him, did nothing to improve his mood. In fact, it only served to encourage him to get the whole ordeal over and done, get Harry away from the two sitting so close to him, at the same time as he got to tell him the truth. Ignoring the strange look sent his way by Aragorn, he rose without hesitation, walking over to Harry before halting right in front of him.

"Would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me?" He questioned, staring straight into Harry's impossibly green eyes.

He was incredibly aware of the danger of his request being turned down, that awareness was even more heightened now that he had asked out loud, for everyone to hear. He, as well as Harry, knew that his humiliation, should he be turned down, would be at its greatest before their companions. To Legolas' great relief the young wizard did nothing but nod before standing up, gesturing for the elf to lead the way.

It seemed as if they had walked for hours when they finally came to a stop, having walked so far that their companions wouldn't be able to hear the words that were to be uttered. Drawing a deep breath Legolas turned to face Harry, allowing his eyes to roam his form for a split second before latching onto his eyes. To be perfectly honest, he had no idea, whatsoever, of what to say. He didn't know where to start and how to form his words in a way that wouldn't create a negative reaction from the young wizard before him. His father had always informed him that people that weren't elves could easily misunderstand what elves understood right away. Different people had different customs, customs that had to be taken into consideration when handling something as important as this.

"You're my mate." Obviously, that wasn't how it was supposed to come out.


	13. Pieces Of A Puzzle

**Title: **Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Not much.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story_

**A/N: **Okay, so I decided that even though I haven't finished re-writing chapter 14 and 15 I'll still be posting the rest, think of it as an early Christmas gift from me. Maybe I'll even get finished with chapter 14 before this year is over.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy my little gift to you!

* * *

_"We have to believe that even the briefest of human connections can heal. Otherwise, life is unbearable." - Agate Nesaule._

* * *

**_Chapter 13:_**

**_Pieces of a Puzzle  
_**

Disbelief.

"What?"

Shock.

"How—"

Realization.

"Why?"

All these feelings, these confusing emotions were running through Harry's body, filling his soul, leading him off his path and putting him at a crossroad. He didn't know what to do, how to react, what to say. Harry James Potter was, quite simply, lost. The mere thought that he was someone's mate, _Legolas'_ mate, was unreal to him. It wasn't possible.

He didn't have a mate. It wasn't possible for him to have a mate. Magical creatures had mates, animals had mates. Harry was none of the mentioned; he was a wizard and a human. Wizards didn't have mates, someone to share their lives with, yes, but not a mate. But most importantly, Harry didn't want a mate. Of course, he wanted someone to have a family with and someone to spend the rest of his days with, but he had always pictured that that role would be filled by Ginny Weasley, not an elf from another world. And certainly not an elf that was male.

With uncertain steps he moved backwards, walking until he had backed himself up to a tree. It didn't help that Legolas had suddenly decided that it would be a good idea to close in on him, to place his arms on either side of him and close off all his escape routes. He was trapped. Like a little rat he was trapped and there was nothing, short of harming the elf, he could do about it.

"You're my mate, Harry." Legolas said, dragging the words out, almost spelling them out for him. "There is no why, how or what about it. You're my mate, my beloved, my one and only. You're my only chance at living a happily ever after. Without you I am nothing."

With a sigh of relief at finally getting it all off his chest, Legolas leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Harry's, feeling the young wizard's warm breath on his skin. "I want to hold you in my arms at night, to feel you against me and be able to think that all that is you is mine. I want to have a family with you, to have a life… with… you."

A choked kind of sound escaped Harry's mouth as he shifted, turning his head to the left and forcing Legolas' forehead to move from his own to his temple. He swallowed furiously, trying desperately to rid himself of the spit that had gathered in his mouth.

"I don't have any love, any happiness, or any feelings to give you. I'm hollow and I'm fine being hollow. By telling me these things you're ruining my balance, you're… you're destroying the balance that I've been working so hard to establish and it doesn't work that way. It can't possibly work that way, because if it does I don't know what to do anymore! If it does, I'm not sure how to cope…"

His body was shaking as he gripped the cloth of his shirt, clutching it so hard that he was astonished that it hadn't ripped yet. He longed to run away from the elf, to get away from the situation he found himself to be in. The air itself seemed to squeeze hard around him, forcing the breath out of him and crushing his intestines. Harry was, quite simply, desperate to find a way to avoid this confrontation and forget that it had ever happened so he could go on as they had before it had even occurred.

That wasn't possible though, and so the only thing he could do was to face it head on and try and convince Legolas that them being together wasn't something that was going to happen. He had to cut the head off the snake before it attacked and, possibly, defeated him. He had to keep the elf from getting his hopes up while simultaneously keeping the rest of their group from becoming suspicious.

Shifting in Legolas' grip, Harry barely managed to resist the urge to knee the elf right where it would hurt the most. His foot nearly twitched with the insistent will to go through with it, to allow his body to do exactly what it wanted to and thusly forcing Legolas to relinquish his hold on him. He didn't though, instead he continued to squirm around, unintentionally rubbing up against the very being he was trying to get away from. An uncomfortable grimace flitted across his face as the elf pressed him even further up against the tree, and stiffened when Legolas' warm breath hit his ear, sending shivers straight down his spine.

"I won't let you push me away." Legolas breathed into his ear. "You may fight it as much as you like, but nothing can change the fact that we are meant to be together and no matter how much you struggle I'll have you in the end. Nothing, not even you, can do anything to change that."

The blond took in a deep breath before he continued, inhaling Harry's scent along with it. "J-just give in; allow me to love you like you deserve to be loved. Let me protect you, hold you and show you what it's like to be with someone who's completely and utterly devoted to you."

Silence spread between them, flowing through the air as they just stood there, Harry leaning against the tree and Legolas leaning against Harry, one hand caressing his sides lightly. The only sound that could be heard was their own breath and the various sounds the trees made as the wind rustled their leaves.

"You just have to say yes…" Their breath mingled as Legolas' lips steadily approached Harry's. "You just have to say that one word and I'll take care of the rest."

He didn't have time to answer as, suddenly; his mouth was sealed by the softness of Legolas' lips. Startled, his lips complied, moving along in the pace the elf had set as he drew in deep breaths with his nose, inhaling the intoxicating scent of Legolas at the same time as he got oxygen. Electrical tingles traveled from his lips and into the rest of his body, flooding him with the incredible feeling that was caused by Legolas' lips alone. His whole body seemed to turn into pudding as he melted against the tree trunk, allowing the blonde to push him further against the rough surface of the bark, nearly lifting him off his feet. His mind was in a haze, not capable of forming a single thought as the elf continued his ministrations while settling one hand to rest possessively on the wizard's waist and the other cradling his neck.

It was only then, as he released a content sigh that Harry woke up ,realizing exactly what it was that he was doing and who he was doing it with. With a startled cry he ripped himself loose, moving off to the side so he was no longer trapped against the tree. His breath came in heavy gasps, easy to hear.

"W-what the hell was that?!" he roared, green eyes coming to life as an intense flame filled them.

"That was a spark," Legolas firmly stated, gazing at him with a steady look. "That is how you feel when someone you love, someone who loves _you_, kisses you. That was the proof that we are, in fact, destined to be together."

Disbelief coated his entire being, showing on his face as he stared at the elf while hesitantly moving his finger up to caress his mouth. His heartbeat was irregular, thumping at a mad pace, almost like he was having a heart attack. His nerves tingled in an unfamiliar fashion, reminding him again and again that he had, indeed, felt something when Legolas' lips had met his own. An unnerving feeling of belonging coursed through his veins, filling his chest with a warm feeling that he couldn't help but to admit that was incredibly comforting.

"N-no…" He whispered, green eyes moving around, looking for any possible way for him to escape. "A kiss can't do that; a kiss can't tell you that you belong with someone."

He refused to believe that Legolas was right, that he truly was his mate and that he had finally found someone to spend the rest of his life with. He couldn't believe it for that meant that he would have to choose between the love of his life and going home. He didn't have the strength to make such a choice; he wasn't strong enough to choose one over the other. In Harry's mind it was better that he didn't accept Legolas' words as the truth, that way he didn't have to choose, that way he only had to concentrate on making his way home instead of working things out with the handsome elf.

With a boost of confidence, which in reality was nothing more than a false façade, Harry squared his shoulders and straightened his back before saying. "I can't be your mate…You'll have to find someone else."

"That's impossible." Legolas immediately stated with confidence lacing his voice, everything in the elf's stance screamed that he knew he was right. "This isn't something I can undo, this is something that lasts forever, even if one of us dies this bond will continue to exist, nothing can stop that."

The words were said with so much certainty that Harry himself found it difficult not to believe them. He could easily admit that the notion of having something that strong with someone was tempting, incredibly so. Yet he knew that if he did, in fact, say yes to the elf then he would be dooming them both. The young wizard wouldn't be able to stay in Middle-Earth and so agreeing to something when he knew that would be cruel to Legolas. It would be like taking candy from a child right after you'd handed it to it.

"How can you be so sure? You haven't even tried yet." The familiar stubbornness within him rose forth, rearing its head and shaking its mane like a wild stallion. He couldn't allow this to go on any further.

"Because," Legolas whispered as he came closer, alarmingly closer. "I can feel it and I have a suspicion that you can as well…"

Harry didn't have an answer to that one; his mind for the life of him couldn't come up with a clever, yet biting, response to the elf's statement. He was, for the lack of better words, silenced. He had in fact felt those feelings that Legolas was talking about, though he had naturally chosen to ignore them. The blond mentioning those feelings only served to remind him of them, to bring them up to the surface once again and make him want to move a step closer to the elf. Truly a ridiculous notion.

"It's eating you up inside isn't it? The raw need you feel to be with me, the fact that you can feel our connection every time I touch you." A hand rose up to caress his hairless cheek in an affectionate manner, making him close his eyes as a warm feeling flooded through him, a feeling of belonging.

"Give me a chance and I'll show you exactly how right this is. Give me a chance and I'll chase all your worries away." Harry was once again surrounded by the elf's arms, pressed up against Legolas' defined chest as he listened to his words. "Give me a chance to show you exactly how much I love you."

"No." He spoke, green eyes focusing on the ground. "T-This can't happen… It's not happening!"

With stiff movements he backed away, thankful that he had finally managed to find a way to escape. His chest moved up and down in a frantic motion as he heaved for breath, fighting to keep the tears that were so persistent from falling.

"I won't be staying here when the war is over, I will be leaving and so there's no way that a relationship between the two of us could work. I'm sorry but it's just not possible…" With that he ran, doing the exact thing he had wanted to do ever since the conversation had begun.

Harry escaped while Legolas was left to helplessly stare after him as his mate ran _away_ from the very person he was supposed to run _to_.

* * *

Sunrays shone through the room Harry was currently occupying as a delighted moan broke from the confinement of his throat. Hot water that nearly steamed surrounded him as he relaxed, sinking into the heaven that was his bath. He could practically feel his muscles relaxing as they screamed their relief. He hadn't had a real bath since their time in Rivendell and that had to be at least two, perhaps three, months ago. It was, beyond doubt, heavenly to finally have some warm water to soak in after everything they had been through. The fact that he would finally be able to smell something other than his own sweat was a bonus that he prized like nothing else.

Hurriedly, he washed himself off, watching with an appalled grimace as the water began to turn a murky brown. The mere thought that he had gone around with all that filth on his body didn't sit quite well with him. Truthfully, he believed that even Professor Snape's greasy hair couldn't compare to how he had looked. And that was, beyond doubt, an accomplishment in itself.

With a sharp inhale, Harry rose from the bath, shuddering as the water rolled downwards. The cold air slammed against him, nearly making him stop all movement at the shock of it. Harry had always preferred warmth over cold and had always hated he feel that came with stepping out of a bath or a shower. Hurriedly he dressed himself, tightly closing his eyes as he wrapped a white wrapping around his shoulder before clumsily tightening it. A relieved sigh made its way through his throat and out his mouth as the fabric of his shirt slid across his skin, providing him the warmth he had sorely needed. He skillfully ignored the way water dripped down from his hair and landed on his neck, running downwards and forming a wet trail on his warm skin. It didn't take him long before he rushed into his pants, put on his shoes and once again rose to his feet.

He spared one last look at the room that had allowed him so much relaxation before he stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air with relish. The heavy air that had filled Moria was nothing compared to the one that floated around in Lothlorien. The fact that he'd walked a whole day without getting even a minor headache was something he hadn't experienced since they had walked into the catastrophe that was their visit to Moria. It was nice, being able to walk around with a clear head.

"Harry!" Pippin burst out in excitement, hanging off of Harry's hand as he latched onto him, not waiting a second before dragging him off.

"How was your bath? Nice? Good." The hobbit continued, not giving the raven haired male any chance to speak as his mouth worked furiously.

An eyebrow, in a move strangely like the one Snape had performed so many times, rose upwards. An inquiring look covered his face as he studied the two hobbits dragging him forward. They seemed to be on the lookout for something, as if they were determined to avoid it. Their eyes flitted around, taking in their surroundings with a suspicious air about them and the way that their eyes seemed to constantly meet only confirmed Harry's suspicions. They were planning something.

"Exactly where is it that you're taking me?"He questioned, hiding the smile that was threatening to break out on his face. "This isn't some sort of plot to get me alone and attack me is it? 'Cause I promise you even if it is, there is no way that you'll manage to defeat me."

"O-of course not, Harry!" Merry sputtered, outrage showing on his face. "How little faith you have in us!"

"Ah, but I clearly remember an episode where you did, indeed, attempt such a thing."Harry replied.

"Yeah, but that's in the past. We have repented." Pippin calmly stated, not at all affected by Harry's skeptic look as Merry was.

"I'm sure you have."

Ducking to avoid the many branches that were in their way, nimbly avoiding the various stones and tree roots scattered on the ground, Harry followed the two. The many droplets of water that dripped from his damp hair, landing on his face, shoulders and neck were skillfully ignored. And he didn't want to think about the heavy, dark clouds that he knew had begun gathering in the sky, blocking the sun and alerting everything living that the lovely day was about to be destroyed.

"We have something to show you." Merry suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had developed between the three of them. "You didn't get the chance to appreciate it before when you ran out on us, but we know how much he meant to you so we wanted to show you."

"They made a garden in his honor." Pippin murmured as he pushed aside a low hanging branch, making way for them all and giving Harry a nice view of what it was that they were talking about.

A beautifully designed garden lay before him, filled to the brink with flowers he had never before seen, patterns, that were so complex that he doubted that any human could have made them, wove back and forth. It was a wonder that they had managed something so perfect in so little time, but there, right in front of him was the proof.

"How?" Harry whispered in a weak voice, his hands clenched into tight fists.

"Lady Galadriel knew of his death the moment we stepped into these woods. She had it prepared while we were travelling." Pippin answered him; gently grabbing his hand, allowing Harry to lean on him should it prove to be necessary.

"Hmm…" The young wizard hummed, captivated by the sight in front of him even as his sight became blurry and he fought to keep the tears from running down his face. "It's beautiful."

"It is, isn't it?" Merry mused, glancing back and forth from the wizard and the garden, gauging Harry's reaction as he slowly reached into his right pocket, his hand lingering on something there.

With a determined air about him, he gave a quick nod to Pippin before leading Harry towards a bench that was located at the very centre of the garden. Their steps were unusually graceful as they maneuvered their way around the many flowers that grew out of the ground, doing everything they could to keep from squashing them. Harry, too dazed by the magnificence of it all, barely noticed it when they sat down. The only thing that managed to shake him out of his trance like state was when a familiar stick was placed in his hand, bringing a flood of magic with it. He closed his eyes in delight, savoring the feel of finally being reunited with his wand.

Red sparks suddenly erupted from the tip, freezing in the air before flowing in a circle around him. The sparks caressed him, filling him with a joy that he hadn't felt since the last time he had been able to do magic. It was intoxicating, it was familiar, it was a little piece of heaven.

"Lady Galadriel told us to give it to you." Merry said, eyes filled with awe staring at the scene before him. "She would have done it herself, but you ran out on her quicker than she had expected."

A choked laugh escaped Harry as he caressed his wand as one would a child or perhaps a lover. The pieces had finally begun returning to their rightful places.


	14. When Will You Break?

**Title: **Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Nothing in this chapter

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

_**A/N: **I'm finally finished with chapter 14! As you'll all notice I have made some major changes in the direction of this story and that is because I want to be able to use my imagination more and not just follow Tolkien's story line. Anyway I hope you all like the new chapter!_

_

* * *

__" Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first." - Mark Twain, 1835 - 1910._  


* * *

**Chapter 14:**

**When Will You Break?**

A moody, sleep deprived Harry greeted the morning with a fierce scowl, glaring up at the sky as the sunlight shone straight into his green eyes, nearly blinding him with its strength and making it impossible for him to fall back asleep again. The usual peaceful twittering of the birds in the forest slammed into his ears, forcing a groan out of him as he realized that a strong headache was headed his way. It was the second time that week that he had woken up to something like this. The fact that it was only Tuesday made it all the more disturbing. The possibility that he would have to endure this for the rest of the week as well didn't sit quite well with him. In fact, the mere thought drove him into an even worse state of mind, resulting in him becoming snappish towards his companions.

He didn't really know how or why it had happened; he only knew that his bad mood had come as suddenly as a leopard springs upon its prey. It had overwhelmed him. And though he hated to admit it, he knew that it had all started the very day after he had so cruelly refused Legolas. He could have sworn that he had even started hallucinating, wherever he turned he got a whiff of the blond elf's intoxicating scent, and every time he saw blond hair (which was very often considering the fact that he was currently living amongst elves) Legolas' face popped up into his mind.

He was on the brink of falling into insanity.

And the worst part of it all was that he had begun to feel that loathsome, unwanted and totally unnecessary feeling that was jealousy. He couldn't even see the elf close to anybody else without having that ugly monster rear its head and demand that he draw Legolas' attention to himself. He never obeyed, of course, but it was still bothering him. He wasn't supposed to feel that way. Not after how he had so adamantly refused to be with the very person he was now having such feelings for.

With a huff he forced himself into a sitting position, supporting the upper half of his body on his forearms. It had, in reality, become such a problem that he'd even begun avoiding the elf. For a whole week he had scattered away at even the slightest hint of the elf being in the same room as him, though that had only worsened it all. Dreams had begun to occur, dreams that were so captivating, so arousing that he had resulted in keeping himself awake at night, only sleeping for an hour or so, at the most. He refused to experience the touches, the warm skin gliding against his the loving whispers and having to listen to his own cries of completion, the fact that he always woke up, aroused beyond compare was only a contributing factor that furthered his determination to keep from dreaming.

Running a steady hand through the unruly nest he called hair he moved to his feet, shivering slightly as his blanket fell to the ground, exposing him to the cool air. His companions were fast asleep, curled up in their own blankets as they snored on, dreaming things that no one beside themselves would ever know. His limbs shook with the effort it took him to wander towards the campfire that had been kept alive throughout the night. He hadn't gotten much food in the last few days and so that, along with his lack of sleep and the constant stress that rushed through his body served to make him weaker than usual. He was quite confident that his appearance was nothing less than awful.

With lazy movements he threw some more wood on the fire, watching as the flames crackled and consumed the new offering before settling down once again. A slight wince flashed across his face as his scar throbbed. Voldemort, it seemed, had become more active, more daring and Harry could sense everything the dark wizard did as if he was there in the same room as he, observing it all. He could practically hear every scream the dark lord's victims uttered, he could feel every heart that failed and stopped beating, but the worst of it all was that he felt the exact same relish as his nemesis did when it happened. It was sickening, but it was reality. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't escape it and so he accepted it as another screwed up factor in his life.

Strangely enough it was slightly comforting to know that his connection with Voldemort was still intact, it reassured him that his world still existed, that his friends were still alive and fighting and that Harry still had a place to go back home to. It was ironic really, that his number one enemy would be the one to comfort him in such a situation.

Moving away from the fire he trudged along until he was facing his own face, reflected in the water of a crook running through their camp. His hair was disheveled, more so than usual, his eyes, that was usually a bright green, had turned a murky color that did nothing to display the beauty the orbs usually contained. His frame, though slightly deformed due to the water, looked too vulnerable for his liking. All in all, the last few days hadn't been good to him.

"Good morning." He spun around, facing Lady Galadriel as the elf approached. "I trust you had a good night's sleep?"

"Tolerable." He tensely replied, more out of courtesy than actually wanting to have a conversation. "And yourself?"

"I'm afraid not, my night was spent looking into the future." She nonchalantly said before adding. "Something most curious was revealed about your destiny. Do you wish to hear it?"

"Does it matter?" Harry dully questioned. "You'll tell me even if I do not want you to."

"True. I find, however, that it is much easier for someone to accept their destiny when they want to know it." An odd sort of glint twinkled in her eyes suddenly, catching Harry's attention as he regarded her with suspicion.

"Well then, who am I to rob you of your amusement? Do go on."

The she-elf paused for a second as if unsure of how to proceed before she gracefully moved to sit on the ground. She motioned for Harry to join her and sat there, waiting until he heeded her request and sat down, though with a lot less grace than she had. They sat for a moment in silence, him waiting for her to begin and Galadriel waiting for something unknown. In Harry's opinion her silence was her version of a dramatic pause; she was trying to get him curious and impatient. He wouldn't yield, he had learned from the many times Professor Dumbledore had done this.

In the end, she seemed to realize that nothing would happen unless she, herself, instigated it and so she began speaking.

"I have a mirror, a mirror that can show the past, present and even the future. I have gazed into this mirror and seen your path." She paused, her blue eyes shifting from where they had lingered on the sky to connect with Harry's. "You will not be joining your companions when they leave these shores. You shall be staying here until things have returned to as they should be and always should have been, then you shall seek the counsel of an Istari going by the name of Alantar. He will give you the answers you seek."

"I'm supposed to believe this then?" He questioned with an incredulous look on his face. "What good will it do if I abandon the Fellowship? They need all the help they can get and you expect me to just drop it all in favor of waiting here for something I don't even know what is?"

"Yes." She simply replied as if she saw nothing wrong with it.

Instantly, Harry deflated, like a balloon all the air flew out of him as he allowed his head to loll back and rest against the tree he was leaning on. His eyes were closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, he could sense a headache coming along.

"I don't even know the lands and you expect me to travel on my own in search of some wizard that probably hasn't been seen in years?" Harry whispered.

"Oh," Galadriel murmured. "We know where he is, it's just a matter of getting through the various hinders he has set up. I'm quite confident that you'll be able to manage that."

"Thanks for the vote of trust." Harry drawled, his voice practically dripping with cynicism as he rolled his neck, allowing his fingers to snake their way at the back of it, rubbing away the tenseness. "It's deeply appreciated."

"I'll leave you to yourself then." She suddenly stated, moving to her feet with a refinement that Harry could never hope to have. "You'll have to inform them soon, by the way. I'm sure Legolas would like to know it as soon as possible, he'll wish to spend as much time with you as he can before you separate."

A dry laugh escaped him, rumbling through his chest and out into the air as a wry smile moved his lips.

"Of course I won't be given the reprieve of not being the one to tell them. I just don't have that kind of luck." He deliberately ignored the comment regarding Legolas, The lady clearly didn't agree with his decision of denying the male. That though, he decided, was her problem and not his.

"Have a nice day, Harry Potter." With one last wave she left just as silently as she had arrived.

Harry was left to stare as the sky slowly turned from red to blue, listening to his comrades as they finally roused from their heavy sleep. His bad mood was magically forgotten; all the while his mind was filled with thoughts of what lay in the near future and how on earth he was going to break the news to the Fellowship.

* * *

Bright spots flickered across his eyes as Harry lay there, in the sun with his eyes closed. To anyone that happened to walk by he would have seemed the epitome of peace, yet if they were to delve into the depths of his mind they would be greeted by turmoil. For the whole day, when he wasn't avoiding Legolas and ignoring Gimli's requests in joining him in some prank he had planned for Haldir, he had been on his own. His constant musings of what his next step was to be and how he was to perform it made him nearly impossible to speak to, not even the hobbits could get a proper reaction out of him.

He had decided that he would, indeed, be following Galadriel's advice. If Alantar could help him find a way back home then he wouldn't let that chance pass. Now all he had to do was plan, look over maps and, worst of all, say goodbye to his friends. He would have to explain to Frodo why he was leaving him, why he was pursuing another path than the one he had previously been travelling on. He realized that he would have to choose his words carefully and try to limit the hell that was bound to erupt when he revealed his plans.

Green eyes fluttered open. Slender hands fisted and relaxed before they got a good grip on the ground. Muscles flexed as Harry lithely pushed himself off of the ground, brushing his clothes clear of any dirt with swift, yet efficient movements. The whole Fellowship would be gathered in the camp at this time of the day, a perfect occasion to tell them without having to repeat himself over and over again. In a nervous gesture his right hand reached up to his ear, tugging on the lobe as he began to walk. He would have ran a hand through his hair if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't want to make it more mussed up than it already was. He hadn't gotten the chance to untangle it of all the knots that had developed through the night that morning and now, when he actually had the time, he couldn't be bothered with it. He was just too lazy today.

He winced as a branch, seemingly coming out of nowhere, whipped across his cheek, leaving a light red mark in its wake. Hurriedly he reached up to rub at it, his fingers wandering over the sore flesh as if they alone could soothe the sting. Finally, as the camp came within view he dropped his hand, allowing it to linger by his side as it was rocked by his movements. Every nerve in his body was tense as his anxiousness made itself known, worsening with every step he took. This was it, it was now or never.

Clearing his throat he stepped forward, drawing attention to himself as he made no indignation of having any intentions of sitting down.

"I have something to tell you all." The eyes that had not already been fixed upon him looked up, latching onto him with an intensity that did nothing to dissuade the tenseness in his body. In fact, the added pressure seemed to raise his nervousness to an even further extent.

"I had a talk with Lady Galadriel this morning." He stated, twiddling his fingers as he tried to avoid looking at those surrounding him. "The things said there have helped me make the decision that I won't be coming along with you when you leave, I'll—"

"What?!" Frodo's distressed cry rang through the clearing, cutting Harry off midsentence. "You're not coming?! Why?"

"Because," Harry explained, sending the hobbit a small smile. "I have someone I need to find, someone that can help me unravel a mystery that I've been trying to solve ever since I came to Rivendell."

He was vastly aware of the way both Legolas and Gimli stiffened at his news.

"But…Can't it wait?" The hobbit timidly tried, shifting uncomfortably as he moved closer to his friend. "Do you have to do it right away?"

"I'm afraid so, I can't let this slip between my fingers and in order to prevent that from happening I'm going to have to leave as soon as I'm ready." He replied. "I'll be staying until you leave and then I'm leaving to begin my search."

"So we won't be seeing each other again?"

"Of course we will!" Harry said, astonished, "As soon as I have found the person I'm searching for and gotten what I want I will be joining you again. I did promise that I would help you in this war, Frodo."

"How long do you believe this quest of yours is going to last?" Aragorn questioned with a calculating glint in his eyes.

"I don't know." The young wizard musingly replied. "We know where he is, we just don't know how long it'll take for me to get through his defenses."

"Ah." The man hummed before he continued. "And exactly who is it that you are searching for?"

"Alantar, the Blue Wizard."

"What?!" Legolas suddenly burst out, cutting off whatever Aragorn was about to say as he leaped to his feet, eyes ablaze with passion and concern. "Of all people, why would you go after him? The blue Istari is ruthless when it comes to punishing those that disturb him!"

"It's a good thing, then, that I am capable of taking care of myself." Harry coolly countered. "I don't need you telling me that what I'm going to do is dangerous, Legolas, I figured that out on my own."

"I'm not saying you can't defend yourself, I'm just trying to tell you that it would be wise to take someone with you." The elf replied, resisting the urge to stalk towards the wizard as they currently had company.

"And who would that be, you? I think not."The green eyed male snorted.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Legolas stated, looking Harry straight in the eyes. "I'm sure that having an elf with you could help immensely. Of course, due to our situation it's obvious that no other elf but me should be allowed to accompany you."

"No, you won't." Harry snarled, "You'll be staying with the Fellowship, you'll save the world with that conceited smile of yours plastered on your face and you'll damn well like it!"

With that he once again turned his attention towards Frodo, his smile morphing from an intimidating grimace to a smile that seemed to light up his whole face. He was blissfully unaware that he and Legolas had just been arguing like an old married couple and that he had, unconsciously, taken the role of the dominating wife that made all the decisions.

"Don't worry about it, Frodo; I'll be with you again before you know it." A hand, more delicate than Harry wanted to admit, moved forward to rest on the hobbit's shoulder, squeezing it lightly before letting go. "You'll just have to be patient and continue to stay fixed on your goal, that's all. You'll see how fast time can move."

* * *

Darkness ruled the world as day gave way to night, creatures, who normally wouldn't have dared to, crawled out of their hiding places, roaring into the gloom of nighttime. This was their hour; this was their time to rule, to live. From dusk until dawn they commanded the world, it was theirs to do with as they pleased. The world was coated in darkness and it would continue to be so until the sun rose from its sleep.

A high pitched, maniacal cackle filled the halls of a seemingly abandoned mansion, haunting its halls, claiming its rooms and filling the whole manor with a disturbing chill. Thunder cracked, drowning out the triumphant laughter coming from the only being that lived in Slytherin mansion.

Pure amusement filled the dark lord, as he watched Harry struggling. Such entertainment, such humor, watching his Harry struggle with all the drama he automatically drew to himself. Many, including his death eaters, believed him to be devoid of anything called wit, but they were wrong. He, Lord Voldemort leader of the dark, sole heir to Slytherin had plenty of humor; he just chose to show it rarely.

Baring his teeth in a lipless grin, Voldemort neatly folded his fingers together, sinking deeper into his chair and looking straight into the roaring fire in front of him. Yes, it came out rarely, but he found that each time he met his Harry, no matter if he was defeated or not, that humor was drawn to the surface of his rather cold and cruel personality. Harry was the key. The boy was the key to everything it seemed, the key to his humor, the key to the dark's victory, and finally, Harry was the key that opened new doors and new possibilities.

Drawing in a deep breath, he went deep into his own mind, replaying Harry's face over and over again, delighting in each emotion, each feature, even the boy's flaws gave him pleasure. Obsessed some may have called him. He didn't think so. Voldemort had always appreciated beauty, and he could easily say that Harry fell into that category. No matter that the boy was his enemy, it didn't bother him. In fact, he viewed Harry as his, his property, his to torture, his to kill. The lightning bolt on his forehead only served to enforce his ownership over the boy. It marked him as his.

Despite all that, Voldemort didn't at all mind that the elf was so desperately seeking his property. No, Harry did a fine job of pushing the blonde away, so the dark lord had nothing to worry about. He would prepare things here, and then, and only then, would he bring Harry back. The boy needed to be out of the way for his plans to work, and the fact that the Light had seemed to lose some of its hope was only a bonus. Things were all going according to plan. What Harry did in the other world didn't actually have any consequence. Though he still enjoyed watching him, watching what moves the boy made and the dramatics that gathered around him. It was what one could call the peak of his day.

There was this certain appeal to watching Harry, something addicting about the way he moved, or perhaps it was the way he spoke, or even the way he always seemed to mess up things without meaning to. He was well aware of the fact that Harry had decided to try and be friendlier towards the elf, yet that had been a failure. He knew that the reason why Harry had chosen to refuse Legolas was because of the fact that he would be leaving. He had been trying to spare the elf of the pain and misery that was sure to come when the young wizard was to leave. It would seem that Harry didn't actually realize the seriousness of the situation. Voldemort was filled with glee at the thought that Harry was unknowingly sentencing the elf to a painful death. He was doing just as Trelawney, just as Dumbledore, whom had sentenced Harry to death the moment they had spoken the prophecy.

Oh, how he was looking forward to enhancing Harry's beauty with the boy's own blood. How he longed to see those deep emerald eyes filled with pain as the raven haired boy's life slowly drained out him. He could barely contain himself at the thought of hearing those delicious screams, those tantalizing whimpers of pain, and lastly, he couldn't wait to see Harry's eyes dull with the realization that he was going to die as a green light flew straight at him. There had been many nights that he had dreamed of such moments, dreamed of taking his pleasure from the boy before ending his life with a quickly uttered spell. His body awakened, reacting in a way it only could when Harry was in the picture.

Everything was going according to plan, and it would continue to do so if he had anything to say about it. Nothing would keep the dark from triumphing, from defeating the light and ruling the world. A new era was to begin, one curtained in darkness. Still, Lord Voldemort wondered when Harry Potter would finally break.


	15. A Not So Quiet Goodbye

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Nothing much to warn about here either.

_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **Okay, so here we are, chapter 15. There isn't that much that happens in this chapter, but as it is it's necessary for the story that the thing that happens here actually do transpire, so I hope that you won't be too bored by it. Hope you all enjoy!

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_"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?" - Alice In Wonderland. _

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**Chapter 15 : **

**A Not So Quiet Goodbye**

A bluster of feelings created havoc within Harry's mind as he stood there, on the shore, watching as the Fellowship loaded their boats and prepared themselves for the rest of their journey. The fabric of his tunic was clenched tightly in his right hand. His teeth latched onto his bottom lip, worrying it and ensuring that it would be bruised and swollen by the time he was done with it. His green eyes were dull as he used every ounce of self-control he had in his body to keep from joining them.

Harry could easily admit that he was frightened; the notion of separating from the only people he knew in this world didn't sit quite well with him. He had been assured by Lady Galadriel that he would be escorted to the Blue wizard's home by two of her guards and that they would accompany him back as well. Yet he would still have to go in alone, he would have to face one of Middle earth's most powerful beings alone and survive it. Suffice to say, Harry's fear was justified.

His left hand, acting on pure instinct, grabbed a hold of his wand. His fingers caressed the smooth wood as he allowed the calming feel that always came with being in contact with his wand to wash over him. He needed something to anchor him, something to keep him from exploding and showing exactly how reluctant he was to leave his friends. His wand, his faithful companion, was the only thing he could think of that would serve that purpose. Though, he had to admit, Galadriel's light hand on his shoulder also seemed to calm him somewhat.

Sighing, he flopped down to the ground, weaving his fingers through the dirt that covered the forest floor. Fittingly enough, the sky was covered by grey clouds, obscuring the sun and allowing him to look up without having to cover his eyes. Absentmindedly, he wondered if it would rain. He wouldn't mind if it did. It would be an appropriate reprieve from the constant blue that had decorated the sky ever since they had arrived. Harry found that, once in a while, it was nice to feel the wet and cold splashes of raindrops falling onto his skin.

The presence of someone coming to sit by his side drew his attention, forcing him out of his private musings in order to figure out exactly who it was that had sought him out.

"I'll miss you, you know." Gimli's gruff voice, slightly choked with suppressed sobs, told him. "It won't be the same without your presence."

"I know." Harry replied, turning towards the dwarf. "I'll miss you as well."

"You better miss me!" The short male burst out in a light voice, trying to hide the sadness that, unbidden, had welled up inside him. "How am I to live through the constant jibes of the company's elf without you?!"

"Ah," He chuckled. "I must have misunderstood then. I was under the impression that it is you who antagonizes Legolas, not the other way around."

"Oh humbug!" The dwarf agitatedly shifted in his seat. "That's what he wants you to believe! In reality he gives as good as he gets, even more at times, the pompous elf!"

If Harry hadn't seen the way the dwarf and elf had interacted during their stay he wouldn't have believed his ears when he heard the almost fond way in which Gimli insulted Legolas. It would seem that many things had changed during their journey, the fact that Gimli and Legolas' hateful relationship had turned into a good natured rivalry wasn't something he had expected when they first set out on their quest. Changes had happened and they were still happening, all Harry could hope to do was hang on for the rest of the ride and pray to God that he would get through it all alive.

"If I didn't know better I would say that you enjoy your fights with Legolas, Gimli," Harry chuckled good-naturedly. "But that would be silly of me, no?"

"Incredibly so." The red haired dwarf agreed, contently combing a hand through his beard.

"I thought so."

They sat in a companionable silence for a while, waiting for the others to finish loading the boats so they could say their final goodbyes. Harry had early on decided that he wouldn't cry, he was determined that he would meet them again and meaning tearful goodbyes weren't necessary and they wouldn't ever become necessary. He would make sure of it.

Out of the corner of his eyes he watched as Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas cooperated in loading the boats. The hobbits, it seemed, were too busy exploring the vessels, watching them with eyes filled with wonder. Harry had the vague suspicion that they had never been in the presence of a boat before. Their excited smiles only served to prove his theory.

"Am I doing the right thing, Gimli?" Harry quietly questioned, a sudden hint of uncertainty welling up inside him.

"I wouldn't know. "He slowly replied as if he was thinking about his answer while he was saying it. "I don't know your reasons for doing this and so I'm not able to judge whether it's right or not."

"You don't think I'm selfish?"

"Of course I think you're selfish."Gimli replied. "It would be a wonder if I didn't. We're all selfish once in a while, Harry, it doesn't make us bad, it's natural."

"You shouldn't worry about such things." The redhead stated, turning on his side so he could send Harry a small smile. "In the end everything will end up as it should be and no one will care that you had a moment of selfishness."

A snort escaped the young wizard as his green eyes stared unseeingly up at the sky. "You'd be surprised by how many it actually is who'll care."

The whole Wizarding world would care.

* * *

A whole hour passed by while the Fellowship continued to load the boats. Gimli, who had tired of lying there without doing anything productive, had joined the others. Harry was as relaxed as he could be, lying on the ground with half closed eyes as he listened to the sounds of his surroundings. He had deduced that in a tree to his right, two birds of unknown species were seated, chirping away in an uncaring manner.

Finally the last bag was thrown into the boat, signaling that it was time for them to leave. Carefully, so as not to hurt them, Harry opened his eyes, rolling over with a sigh and forcing himself onto his feet. A hand, slightly calloused from his quidditch playing, rubbed his neck, working out the tension that had developed there as he approached the group that had gathered by the vessels. Several pairs of eyes turned to watch him, following his every movement until he finally halted by Haldir's side, facing the Fellowship.

There was something entirely wrong with the picture. Something was missing. The whole scene seemed hollow to him as if he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes. It rather looked as if it was an unmoving photograph without any feel to it. Quite a drastic change from what it once had been. The Fellowship had lost two of the ten that had been when they had first begun their quest. Gandalf had brutally been robbed from them by a balrog and Harry was now separating from them, going his own way.

With steady steps he made his way over to the hobbits, feeling as if he had been watching long enough. Gracefully, surprisingly enough, he crouched down to their level, sending them a beaming smile as he tucked a stray lock of raven hair behind his ear.

"You'll take care of each other, won't you?" He questioned, his voice contradicting the smile on his face. "The others won't always be there to help you so it's crucial that you do."

"Of course we will, Harry!" Pippin burst out, outraged that the young wizard thought otherwise. "The one we're worried about is you, who knows what dangers you will have to face without us being there to protect you!"

"Yes!" Merry joined in, puffing out his chest. "How will you ever survive without us, your shining knights in armor, there to protect you? It's simply preposterous!"

"I'm going to miss you guys." Harry simply replied, drawing the two of them into a tight hug before turning to Sam and Frodo.

He enveloped the two of them into a hug as well, relishing in the last contact he would have with them for a while. He could feel their small hands tightening around his clothes, fisting the fabric as they, just as much as he, took part of the embrace.

"Don't lose him, Sam." He turned his head and whispered into the kindhearted hobbit's ear. "No matter what you do, don't lose him."

"I won't." The kindhearted hobbit determinedly replied as Harry released his grip on the two.

"And you Frodo," Harry turned to the other, confident with the knowledge that Sam would keep his promise. "Don't keep everything bottled up inside. You should trust your friends and let them help you. You'd be surprised to see how much it actually helps."

"Shouldn't I be the one telling you that?" The hobbit replied, smiling while stepping back, allowing Harry some space.

With a smile the young wizard moved on, walking towards Aragorn and Boromir with steady footsteps. He was perfectly aware of the many eyes that were fixed upon him as he said his goodbyes, how could he not be when they were boring into him like a drill drills into wood. He couldn't escape them and so he did his very best to ignore them and shook Aragorn's hand before allowing himself to be drawn into a loose embrace.

It was an entire different feeling, he decided, to be held rather than to hold someone. He felt much safer and less in control when he was in Aragorn's arms as opposed to when he was hugging the hobbits. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling; in fact, it was rather nice to feel as if he didn't have to take care of someone. Words weren't needed when saying goodbye to the two men and so his farewells with them went on quietly as he gave them both a hug and smile each. Nothing more was necessary.

Gimli was next in line. Waiting with open arms the dwarf was prepared for him with a teary smile on his face, though later, if asked, he would furiously deny any mention of said tears. Though the dwarf wasn't as short as the hobbits were, Harry still had to crouch down a little in order to give Gimli the hug he so obviously wanted. It was only luck that saved him from burying his face into the red head's bushy beard.

"I hope you weren't forgetting me?" His friend whispered as he tightened his grip ever so lightly.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous, Gimli." Harry replied. "Forgetting a dwarf such as you is hardly the easiest thing to be done."

"As it should be," The dwarf jokingly replied. "It truly would be a scandal if you managed to forget a person of my stature."

"Such a shame it would be." Harry agreed, pulling back slightly in order to get a look at his friend's face.

"Don't you dare get yourself killed, Harry." Gimli said, reaching up to caress Harry's face with a calloused hand. "I won't forgive you if you do."

"I hope you understand that that concerns you as well." The young wizard retorted, leaning into the hand on his face as his eye locks slid downwards, turning his eyes into mere slits.

"Obviously."The dwarf scoffed, gently wiping away the tears that had, unknowingly, begun running down Harry's cheeks.

Slowly, as if reluctant to do so, Harry extracted himself from Gimli's embrace. His limbs shook slightly with the effort it took. By no means was he exhausted, in fact it was quite the opposite, but the mere thought that this was the last time he was to touch his dear friend took more out of him than he thought it would.

When he finally managed to completely remove himself from Gimli, he turned to the last of the Fellowship. Green clashed with blue and Harry couldn't help the way his breath seemed to speed up. With carefully planned out steps, he moved closer, impeccably aware of how those blue eyes followed his every move. It wasn't nearly as unnerving as he thought it would have been. Usually he would have been twitching and squirming when faced with so much attention from the elf, but it would seem that things had changed. If it was for the better or worse he didn't know.

Nervously, he shifted from one foot to the other, his body teetering too close to the side as he suddenly tripped over a tree root. A graceful hand, calloused by years of practicing with swords and other weaponry, latched onto his shoulder, halting his descent downwards and bringing him flush into the elf's side in order to steady him. A loud growl, identical to the one that had been uttered when they had first arrived in Lothlorien, filled the air the moment they touched.

Tension immediately rose in the air and Harry, still squeezed into Haldir's body, had the vague notion that his last farewell wouldn't go by as smoothly as he had hoped. In fact, the storming blue eyes of Legolas made a quiet goodbye seem utterly ridiculous.

"Release him!" The elf snarled, taking a step forward and thusly breaking the line the Fellowship had previously been gathered in.

Harry didn't know whether it was plain foolishness or an attempt to tease and enrage Legolas even further, but Haldir didn't relinquish his hold on him. As a matter of fact, the elf only drew him further in, tightening his grip on the young wizard and, as Harry could see from his position, threw an arrogant smirk at the other blond. In Harry's opinion, Haldir wasn't only stupid, he was brain-dead as well.

"No." And that just proved it all.

Chaos broke out as Legolas, with an unfitting sneer on his face, suddenly drew his bow and arrows, pointing it at Haldir's head with preciseness that spoke exactly of how skilled with the bow he was. The elf didn't even seem fazed with the many arrowheads that were pointed at him in return. It was in that moment, as Legolas stood against those of his own kind, that Harry realized exactly how much the whole mate thing meant to the elf. How much he, Harry, meant.

"Release him!" Legolas repeated, the hot rage leaving his voice to be replaced by a cool calm that seemed even more terrifying.

Slowly, apprehensively, Haldir's arm slipped from around Harry's shoulder, leaving the young wizard to feel oddly bare in front of Legolas. He didn't quite know what to do. Was he to step forward and go stand by Legolas' side? Or was he perhaps supposed to stay exactly where he was, right in the middle of the two groups? He didn't know, but it would seem that it wasn't necessary that he did either, for in that very moment Gimli, as if obeying some secret signal, stepped forward and led Harry away from Haldir and behind Legolas. Only then, it seemed, did the elf in the slightest relax.

Several minutes passed by before, simultaneously, all the elves lowered their weapons while moving into a more relaxed stance. The tension in the air seemed to cling on for a moment until; finally, it disappeared, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.

"I suggest you keep your hands to yourself from now on." Legolas' cold voice rang through the air as the elf turned furious blue eyes on Haldir. "One never knows who might chop them off."

The words were said with such serious calm that Harry couldn't believe it to be anything other than sincere. It was strangely flattering to know that it was because of him that Legolas had reacted so strongly. Yet, at the same time, it made everything all the more difficult for him. Legolas' possessiveness was like a double edged blade, designed to harm both sides.

The time spent away from the elf would do him some good, he mused, it would allow him to get his thoughts and feelings in order, give him some time to analyze them and establish exactly what it was that he wanted. He wasn't so naïve as to believe that he didn't feel anything towards Legolas, oh no, the jealousy, lust and thrilling shivers he had experienced until now threw that notion right out the window. And he was positive that if he stayed in the elf's company, then those feeling would get the chance to fester and turn into something more. The question was whether or not he wanted to allow that.

"Harry…" Gimli's hesitant voice rang in his ear, successfully drawing him out of his own mind. "You need to do something, in this state you're the only one he'll listen to and he's seconds away from drawing his knife."

And, indeed, it seemed as if the dwarf was right. Haldir's superior smirk still hadn't left his handsome face and it would seem that the elf had done or said something to enrage Legolas even further. The blond shook with his rage and just as Harry closed the distance between him and his 'self-proclaimed mate', Haldir worsened the situation.

"Can you blame me? He is, after all, such a delectable, little creature."

And the fragile silence that had settled between them all shattered easily as Legolas lunged forward, his mouth twisted in an ugly snarl.

Somehow, and he himself didn't know how, Harry managed to place himself between the two. A hand lightly pushed against Legolas' muscled chest, halting his progress and keeping him from attacking Haldir. He was well aware that it was only Legolas' reluctance to harm Harry that the elf stopped at all. It had nothing to do with the green eyed man's strength.

"Stop it." The young wizard said, ignoring the little voice inside of him that urged him to let Legolas take care of the other elf, it was bound to be an amusing sight, after all. "You're about leave, this isn't the best way to say goodbye, you know."

"I apologize." Legolas replied after composing himself, more sorry for the fact that his goodbye with Harry hadn't gone as he would have liked than sorry for the attempted attack on Haldir.

Before he knew it he was encased by the elf's arms, held in such a tight embrace that he was afraid Legolas wouldn't ever let him go. Of course, he knew how unlikely that was, but still, the way the elf seemed to cling onto him indicated that such a possibility was in fact possible of transpiring.

"You know." Harry mumbled, his voice muffled by Legolas' shoulder. "It's not as if you'll never see me again."

"I know." The elf replied, tightening his grip even further, if that was even possible.

Harry didn't reply. Instead he relaxed into Legolas' embrace, breathing deeply as he lifted his right hand to wipe away the salty imprint his tears had left on his skin. This, he mused, would perhaps be the last time he'd ever be like this with the elf. It all depended on whether he managed to figure out his feelings and, of course, whether or not he managed to keep himself alive long enough to see the Fellowship once again. Despite the fact that he had assured the hobbits that he would meet them again, Harry knew perfectly well that there was a very large chance that he wouldn't survive. He knew that it was likely that he wouldn't ever see them again, and so, he allowed himself this little moment. After all, there wouldn't be any time to do so later.

With a faint sigh, he shifted, moving back slightly so he was no longer flush against the other. "You should go, they're waiting for you."

The moment, that had been unbelievably peaceful, was shattered, crunched into millions of frail pieces that couldn't be put together again. Green and blue once again clashed as Harry moved out of reach, forcing the elf to relinquish his hold on him. He watched as Legolas' hands, which had previously been suspended in the air, fell uselessly at his sides.

With one final look at his companions, he turned away, moving away from the shore and further into the forest. He wasn't about to put himself through the torture that was sure to come should he watch as they left. No, he wanted to make this as easy as possible for himself. If that made him selfish he didn't care.

All that mattered right now was getting the hell away from the place where they would disappear.


	16. We Move Along

**Title: **Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Nothing to warn about here.

_**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **Okay, so this chapter isn't as exciting as many of you probably hoped it would be. There isn't much action but as you all probably understand, it's necessary for the story that there are some boring chapters as well. Anyway, chapter 17 is getting along nicely so I believe it won't be too long before I'll post it. Hope it didn't take too long for me to update it, I have this illness called ME and so because of that it isn't always that I have the energy to write anything, but hopefully it won't mess up my progress with the next chapter.

Leave me a review with your opinion of the chapter and I hope you enjoy! :D

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_"Everything in the universe has a purpose. Indeed, the invisible intelligence that flows through everything in a purposeful fashion is also flowing through you."_ - Wayne Dyer, 1940 - ??

* * *

**Chapter 16: **

**We Move Along, No Matter How Slow**

It was raining. For the first time since he had arrived in Lothlorien it was raining and he couldn't help but to feel that it was fitting, somehow. The pitter patter of the water drops hitting the ground rushed through his ears and slammed against his eardrums as if he was sitting right beside a waterfall. Uneasily, he shifted, squirming in his seat as he was unable to find any comfortable position. He was restless, longing to get going, to come closer to his reunion with the Fellowship. But most of all he wanted to know how Gandalf was doing.

It had been quite unexpected when a large, blindfolded eagle had appeared in the middle of their evening meal, bringing with it an unconscious Grey Wizard. Various injuries covered the man's body, blood matted his usually pristine hair, and his clothes were tattered, ripped to pieces by what could only be the Balrog. Harry hadn't quite known what to think, what to feel, all he had known in that moment was that Gandalf was on the brink of dying and he needed help, fast. Lady Galadriel, being the headstrong female she was, had immediately taken charge ordering elves about and moving Gandalf to more comfortable surroundings.

It had now been two days since that incident and Harry still hadn't heard any news of how his fellow wizard was doing. It was unnerving, to say the least. Even his preparations for his upcoming journey couldn't distract his mind from it, and he had more than once caught himself pacing in front of the room Gandalf was held in. The stress and uncertainty was getting to him and, to be honest, he didn't like it, it reminded him too much of his fourth year at Hogwarts.

Effortlessly, he lifted his hand, running it through his hair as he tugged lightly in his frustration. He had taken to pacing again, his feet making dull noises as the bare skin connected with the wooden floor. He wanted to do something, anything, in order to alleviate his boredom, but nothing he did helped. He had long since given up on reading; he never got past the three first sentences as his thoughts drifted away onto something other than what he was actually reading. There was no use in going outside, unless he wanted to be soaked and possibly fall ill. He didn't particularly know anyone beside Galadriel and Haldir and they were both busy, the lady's attention was focused on Gandalf and Haldir was on guard duty.

An aggravated grunt escaped the confines of his mouth as he threw himself on his soft bed, closing his eyes as he lightly bounced up and down with the bed's movements. Harry had never been good at dealing with boredom; the experience had never been there as something had always happened to him. He was either fighting Voldemort or dealing with some obscene rumor about himself that, mysteriously enough managed to reach the entire Wizarding world. Suffice to say; he hadn't had a single chance to be bored and now that he had, he could easily say that he didn't like it. He felt too unproductive, too useless.

He was a man of action, he wasn't one to step back and let others do all the work for him. There was a reason, after all, why he had been sorted into Gryffindor. He didn't plot and he didn't plan out every move long before he was required to, no, he analyzed the situation when he was in the middle of it and acted accordingly to that. His passion and hotheadedness was his best as well as his worst feature and he was damn proud of it as well. It was what made him Harry, just Harry.

A light knocking on the door brought him out of his musings, diverting his attention away from the wooden ceiling in order to look in the direction of the door.

"Come in." He softly called, green eyes slightly dazed from his self analysis.

With a quiet click the door opened, revealing a tall, elf maiden. "Lady Galadriel requires your presence in the hall of healing, my lord."

"Of course," Harry replied, pushing himself off the bed before picking up his shoes and swiftly slipping his bare feet into them.

Gracefully, he grabbed his cloak, fastening it around his neck. A light smile adorned his face as he stepped past the lady and into the rain. His mood didn't improve in the least when he felt the raindrops connect with his skin as the wind drove them to such a speed that it nearly felt like a whipping.

"If you would follow me please." The elf uttered softly, motioning for him to walk with her.

Obediently he walked behind her, drawing his cloak tighter around him as he tried his absolute best at looking just as unaffected as she was. He failed miserably. It was very clear, to any that bothered to look, that the rain was in fact bothering him very much. So much that he almost regretted stepping a foot outside, no matter that Lady Galadriel had called for him.

They walked for several minutes before they arrived in front of a solid wooden door. It was quite plain, Harry mused to himself, compared to the many other things made by elves. He had early on gotten an impression of elves favoring the frail and beautiful rather than the robust and ugly. So it surprised him to see something so… graceless in an elven realm such as this. Nonetheless, he grabbed a hold of the large door knocker, dragged it a few inches away from the wood before letting it loose and allowing it to connect heavily with the door. The entry was opened mere seconds after.

"Come in, my lord." Another she-elf stood in the door way, bidding him to make his entrance. "The lady is waiting."

Without further ado, he stepped forward, leaving behind the rain as he moved into the dryness that could only come with being under a roof. The room was, appropriately, adorned in white. Looking as sterile as one could expect from a place where diseases and injuries were treated. Large windows decorated the walls, letting in a large amount of light, despite the fact that the sun was hidden by heavy rainclouds. Several beds were lined up against the only wall that didn't have any windows on it and standing by one of those beds Lady Galadriel could be found.

Though she, despite her magnificent presence, wasn't the one his attention was fixed on. No, Harry's eyes were trained on Gandalf's sleeping form. It was quite a strange sight, he mused to himself as he watched the wizard with slight fascination. Clear, blue eyes were open and, if it hadn't been for the snores that steadily flowed out of the old man's throat; he would have believed him to be awake.

The wizard looked remarkably well, considering the condition he had been in when he had first arrived. His hair was no longer matted in blood; in fact it was whiter and more pristine than Harry had ever seen before. Though the man was still in bed, he was clad in clothes that were, obviously, made of elves. All this proved to Harry that Galadriel was just as sufficient, perhaps even more so, as Elrond when it came to the department of healing.

"He will wake up in a day or two I believe." The melodic voice of Galadriel rang in his ears, flowing pleasantly through the room. "Though, unfortunately, he won't have the pleasure of waking up to your face. It is time for you to leave."

"Oh?" Harry hummed, lightly running a finger across Gandalf's cheek, caressing the skin there as a warm glint appeared in his eyes.

"Yes, Calanon and Ainion will accompany you. They have already prepared the horses, and all that remain is for you to pack your belongings."

"Not that I have much of that." Harry quietly muttered to himself before sending a beaming smile towards the lady. "Of course, are there any particular things you imagine I would need?"

"There are many things which you will need, though I do not think you'll be able to take them with you on your journey. Now hurry along, nothing will happen if you just stand there." Galadriel smoothly shooed him away.

With one last, lingering look at Gandalf Harry walked towards the door, pushing it open with a firm shove. Ignoring the shivers that spread through his body, Harry drew his cold and wet cloak tighter around him and headed out into the rain once again.

The heavy wooden door closed with a loud boom.

* * *

Birds were singing, flying about without a single care, the sky was a clear blue, devoid of any clouds as the wind had blown them all away. The gentle rocking of his horse comforted him and served to lull him into a soothing silence. Calanon, with his blond hair, sturdy build and suspicious nature rode in front of him, keeping a look out for any possible enemies. While Ainion, the complete opposite of his elder brother, rode leisurely behind him, not at all inclined to allow the thought of danger to obscure his happy demeanor.

Harry had established that, after four days of traveling with them, he liked them very much. They were good company and he hadn't had to endure a single boring moment while he had been with them. Ainion made him laugh and Calanon calmed them both down when it looked like Harry was about to die of laughter. The two elves balanced each other out and served to make up the perfect mixture that was needed to keep Harry content. And in return they were given laughter, companionship and a person to meddle between them when the two brothers argued. Harry had quickly realized that such a person was sorely needed. Not a day went by without them having some major argument about some of the most ridiculous nonsense Harry had ever had the pleasure of hearing.

It had all become a part of his daily routine though, and the young wizard found that, despite the headaches that came along with it, he enjoyed it immensely. Strangely enough, for they were not at all alike in appearance and personality, it reminded him very much of Fred and George Weasley and their relationship. So refreshing.

"Harry, my love, you're so dull this day." Ainion suddenly burst out, effectively breaking the silence that had had him so content. "I don't quite know what to think of it, surely your humor haven't been sucked straight out of you, has it?"

"Unlike you, brother," Calanon cut in before Harry had the chance to reply, his face was twisted in a slight snarl as he turned around with narrowed blue eyes. "Harry here, the sensible young man that he is, doesn't feel the need to hear the sound of his own voice every minute of the day; he knows how to appreciate the importance of silence."

"Oh shush you!" The youngest of the brothers said, surprisingly enough loosing the smile that seemed to have been permanently branded on his face. "No one asked of your opinion, right Harry?"

"Oh no, you won't drag me with you in the deep, dark hole that's waiting for you this time. For once I'll just sit back and enjoy the show." And as if to prove his point he allowed himself to fall forward and rest his head against the neck of his horse.

After much shuffling, he finally settled in the most comfortable position he could find, allowing the horse to steer by itself as he said. "Do go on, I haven't been so entertained since you fell off your own horse this morning, Ainion."

Ainion, having realized that there wouldn't be any help from the wizard, turned away from them both with a loud huff, crossing his arms over his chest and jutted his lower lip out in a very obvious pout. He looked very much like a spoiled brat as he sat there, barely managing to keep his pout from being replaced by a beaming smile. It was painfully obvious, to anyone in the immediate area, that Ainion was a crappy actor.

"One day, when I die a most excruciating death, you'll look back on this moment and regret that you didn't step in and support me. This is treason I tell you! Treason!" The elf yelled and, with a dramatic flair, threw his long blond hair over his shoulder.

"Be quiet, Ainion." Calanon suddenly hissed, looking around him with narrowed eyes as he concentrated on something that neither Harry nor Ainion could hear. "We are not alone."

Gracefully, the elf drew his sword, effectively destroying the carefree atmosphere that had surrounded them. The air itself seemed to still as not one of them dared to breathe, their muscles automatically tensed at the prospect of a fight. It had been a long time, Harry realized as he drew his own sword and he forced his limbs into the fighting position that had come so naturally to him ever since Gandalf had taught him. The grip he had on his sword wasn't as tight, nor was it exactly where it was supposed to be, his left foot should have been positioned in front of his right and it was positively mortifying to think that after only a few months he had allowed his skills to decay such as this.

Quickly, hoping that his companions hadn't noticed, he righted himself, forcing everything he knew about fighting to the front of his mind. It would be disastrous, for more than one party, should he allow himself to be killed in this fight due to his own carelessness. What would Gandalf then think of him? Wasting his teachings like that.

Harry could feel his wand burning in his pocket, begging to be used, for a chance to once again defend its master. He was damned near listening to it as well, hadn't it been for the fact that it would be a useful surprise should they need it. His wand was an advantage best kept secret and used wisely, not something that was prudent to wave about like some cheap toy. And so, as a shady figure slowly stepped out of the cover of the bushes, he ignored his wand's call and rather tightened his grip on his other weapon.

The man, for his shoulders were too broad to be a female, was covered top to toe in a dark blue cloak. His face was obscured by the shadows of the hood drawn over his head, while his hands were covered by black gloves. Though his crooked back and walking stick indicated that he was elderly, he was by no means weak, his whole being practically radiated power and so Harry found it hard to be anything but wary of him.

"Who are you?! Show your face!" Ainion shouted, stepping forward in a threatening move, finally having realized the fact that they were in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation.

"Finally…" A deep voice rasped, sounding like it hadn't been used for centuries. "Finally you have come. For years, months and days we have waited for you and, finally, here you are."

"We?" Harry cautiously questioned.

"My master and I."

"And who are you?"

"We are what we always have been." The man answered, moving towards them. "Nomads, chosen by the Valar, we are Istari or what your people call yourself; wizards."

"Then," Harry burst out, his eyes filled with excitement as the grip he had on his sword loosened. "You are Alantar, the Blue wizard?"

"No, not at all." The Istari answered, listening to Calanon's warning growl and came to a stop a small way from Harry. "I am not the Blue wizard, no matter how much the foolish mortals wish me to be."

"Then who are you?!" Ainion barked while baring his teeth allowing his lips to curl upwards in a threatening snarl.

"I am Pallando, companion of Alantar, the Blue wizard and I've been sent here to tell you that those two," he indicated towards the two elves," can go no further."

All the while this was being said, he looked only at Harry as if he hadn't even registered that it was, indeed, Ainion who had asked the question. In fact, other than gesturing at them, Pallando hadn't even acted as if the two elves existed, his eyes, his attention; his sole being was focused on Harry, and only Harry.

The wizard's intense stare did nothing to calm Harry's reeling nerves, nor did the beckoning finger that motioned for him to leave his horse behind and join Pallando where he was standing. He had to admit that the prospect of being alone with this man and all his power was a frightening concept. He wouldn't fool himself and believe that he had any chance of defeating him in battle. Even Voldemort didn't come close to the power this man practically radiated. And though he knew that following the wizard was his only hope of returning home, he was still hesitant as he placed one foot in front of the other, making his way towards the deceiving figure of Pallando.

"Sheathe your sword; it will do you no good where we are going." Pallando said while throwing back his hood, revealing his face to them.

Dark, unruly hair cascaded down the man's broad shoulders in waves. A healthy tan covered wrinkly skin as a symbol of the wizard's health, it was quite clear that Pallando had spent many days out in the sun. Deep, brown eyes, that seemed like they could see right through you, were seated at the center of his face, each on one side of his beak like nose. The man was, by no means, a handsome, nor beautiful sight, but there was something about the air around him that hinted at him having been very popular with the opposite sex in his youth. The hooked nose could very well have been a result from a fight and the many wrinkles, obviously, came with age.

"I expect my companions will be left alone and healthy after my departure?" Harry spoke, obeying the man's order with a swift and automatic movement that any swordsman would have envied.

"Of course, they will not be harmed by us." Pallando stated, bursting out in an unnerving grin that seemed all too wide for his face. "Though should they run into some orcs I'm sure you can agree that that is not something to be blamed upon us."

"It would be outrageous, indeed, should you, out of your own free will, choose to help them should such a situation occur." Harry bit back, poisonous green eyes narrowing in on the man in a glare worthy of the Devil himself.

"Indeed." The dark robed man drawled. "Now come along, enough time has been wasted with your dilly dallying."

* * *

Dismal, that was the most fitting word to describe Harry's surroundings. The wet moss that squished every time he stepped on it served to drench his feet to the very bone. Echoes surrounded them everywhere as they resonated against the cave walls with a haunting quality. The whole place seemed to be inhabitable, but it would seem that the blue wizards, Pallando had explained that both he and Alantar were named the blue wizard, actually preferred it that way. In Harry's opinion it was an utterly mind-boggling choice for a home. Though if one enjoyed their privacy a better place couldn't be found, he imagined that there weren't many that walked into such a place for their own enjoyment.

A disgusted hiss flowed across his lips as a grimace twisted his usually lovely features. A foot covered in mud entered his vision as he lifted it, he had no doubt that the mixture of mud and water had managed to make its way into his shoes. They had been walking for an hour, perhaps two, by now and still it didn't seem as they were about to stop any time soon. Harry was beginning to wonder exactly how far from his companions he was to be led. The constant humming of his wand did nothing to calm him, the fact that his wand was alert and ready to fight only made it obvious that he was about to walk into danger, if that danger would be caused by Pallando or not was yet to be decided.

He hadn't once taken his eyes off the wizard's broad back as they had made their way to this place. His green eyes, brimming with suspicion, was on alert, darting everywhere in order to see everything that surrounded him. He needed to be prepared, for an attack, an ambush. He still hadn't forgotten Legolas' reaction towards the prospect of Harry meeting the Blue wizard; it was clear that Alantar was dangerous and as such Harry needed to be prepared for anything. The way Pallando had spoken of himself as the companion of Alantar made the other wizard seem even more dangerous, for Pallando, with all his power, to refer to him in such a way Alantar had to be powerful, extremely so.

"It's not very far now," Pallando suddenly broke the looming silence.

"Isn't that what you've been telling me for the last hour or so?" Harry apprehensively questioned, a dark eyebrow rising in a graceful arch.

"I haven't told a single lie." The grey haired man stated. "Every time I told you that it wasn't very far, we had gotten much closer than when we started."

"And yet your information hasn't been even remotely helpful." Harry dryly retorted more relaxed now that he had someone to talk to in the gloomy darkness.

"Whether it's useful or not all depends on the person receiving it."

"Of course you would say tha-AH!!"

And then he was falling.


	17. The Blue Wizard Arrives

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **This chapter contains some violence. **  
**

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

**A/N:** I'm in a very generous mood right now, giving you this chapter so soon after the last one ( at least I think it's soon). I have to say that I really like this chapter, things are finally moving along. I've managed to move the storyline away from Tolkien's and to one that's made out of my imagination. There are no limits to what I can do now! Muahahaha!

Anyway, I have to say (not meaning to be mean here, just saying my honest opinion) that there's been a lack of constructive criticism on the last few chapters. Criticism, as you all well know, is a way for an author to improve his /her writing so I'm a little bummed out that I haven't gotten more than just a few these last chapters. I don't want to sound like a spoiled brat that's complaining about not getting any feedback, but I have to say that if you actually have the time to sit down and read the story then you might as well just push the review button that's at the bottom of this page and write what you liked and didn't like and the reason for it. It really doesn't take that much effort and it would really help me out!

Hope everyone enjoys! : D

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_"If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does." - The Duchess, Alice In Wonderland. _

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**Chapter 17:**

**The Blue Wizard Arrives  
**

It's strange how when you're on the brink of death, everything seems so much more insignificant. The problems which he had thought to be so unconquerable and major turned into mere trifles; his situation with Legolas seemed like a stupid thing to be worrying about and the whole war, both in this world and his, seemed quite meaningless and unimportant when compared to the fact that he was only seconds away from meeting death.

Unlike many believed his life didn't flash before his eyes, and contrary to what he, himself, had thought would happen, he wasn't in a tunnel heading for the light that would reunite him with his parents. No, he was facing the same moss covered stone walls and darkness that he had been walking amongst for the last hour or so. Nothing changed and, he realized, nothing would change. There was nothing spectacular about dying, your heart stopped beating, your lungs ceased breathing and in the end there was nothing left but an empty shell.

The gut wrenching feeling of falling threw him out of his own mind and forced him to stop his musings about death in order to properly understand the situation he had managed to get himself into. His eyes widened, his pupils shrunk and his mouth opened in a shrill scream that echoed off the stone walls in a most haunting way. Tears flowed down his face as his limbs flailed about. The wind was furiously tearing at his clothes and the thought that his wand could have fallen out of his pocket suddenly came to mind.

Frantically, he shoved his hands into each of his pockets, his fingers running around until finally, his right hand connected with the familiar wood that was his wand. A wave of magic flooded his body while he fished it out, clenching it tightly in his hand as he refused to separate with it once again. His mind, working furiously, shifted through every spell and charm he knew, desperately searching for something, anything that could get him out of his fated meeting with the hard ground.

"_Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick."_**(1)** Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice suddenly rang through his head. Reminding him of his first charms class and the spell he had learned there. It was perfect, it was as if it had been designed for this exact purpose and the only hole in his plan was that he had never used it on an animate being before, much less himself.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he could see the ground coming closer and closer, the prospect of being squashed into a pile of human goo seemed to become more and more likely of happening. Closing his eyes, he lifted his right hand and pointed his wand on himself. Taking a deep breath he summoned forth his magic, made the necessary wand movements and screamed, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Slowly, slower than Harry would have preferred, his rapid descent towards unyielding earth slowed down until, finally, it seemed as if he was floating in the air. The danger of being squashed was non-existent as he was gently lowered to the ground by his own magic. His breath came in gasps as the adrenalin still hadn't left his veins. His feet, shaking from the unexpected fall, collapsed on him, bringing him to his knees as he doubled over, supporting himself on all four. The urge to throw up was strong, but he pushed it back in favor of drawing in as much air as he could in order to calm himself.

After a couple of minutes in the same position, Harry shifted and carefully pushed himself to his feet. His green eyes critically scanned his surroundings for any signs of danger. There was nothing there though, nothing except for the endless darkness that seemed to belong to the cave. Pallando, the bastard, couldn't be seen anywhere and the suspicion that the wizard had been behind his fall was strong in his mind.

Throwing one last glare in the direction he thought Pallando had last been, he let out an annoyed huff and quietly cast a Lumos. Light immediately erupted from his wand, illuminating his surroundings and allowing him to get a proper look at the place he had fallen into.

It was very much the same as the rest of the cave, dark stone walls that were covered in green moss. There was only one exit, with the exception of how he had come to be there, he could use to get out and that path was most likely littered with dangers. No matter what he decided to do, his situation was a hopeless one. Should he decide to stay where he was and foolishly hope that Pallando would help him, then it was more than likely that he would starve to death. Should he, however, choose to make his way through the tunnel that was before him, then the chance of him running into something thirsting for his blood, was just as likely as the former. In the end, he decided that heading into the tunnel would be his best choice, who knew; perhaps he'd manage to find a way out of the labyrinth that was surely waiting for him.

With that in mind, he headed out, allowing the tunnel's darkness to swallow him as he moved forward and away from the place he had come dangerously close to dying. His wand was the only thing that kept him from tripping, walking into walls and downright embarrassing himself. Though the light didn't shine more than a few inches in front of him so keeping himself from said embarrassing things were no mean feat and the fact that he managed sent a small shot of pride through him. It would seem that his clumsiness had begun to evaporate, leaving behind it a grace that was seldom seen in a mere mortal, not to mention an adolescent teenager.

He blamed it on his time spent in Lothlorien. The elves' behavior, minus their haughtiness, had left its mark on him, resulting in him becoming more graceful and perhaps even more mature than before. No longer did he display his emotions for all to see and he found that he had gained more self-control ever since he had arrived in this world. Harry was changing and he couldn't help but to feel that it was all for the better.

An ear splitting howl suddenly rang in the air, echoing in the tunnel and hitting his eardrums with such force that he nearly staggered. He paled, his skin turning an unnatural white as he looked around himself, his green eyes moving back and forth in a frantic motion that strangely made him seem like a scared little rabbit. Heavy footsteps and panting breath, all this was headed towards him, he could hear it, could feel it and worst of all, he didn't know in which direction it came from. The sound seemed to come from everywhere around him, surrounding him with the uncomfortable feeling of being hunted by some bloodthirsty beast that was playing with him just moments before it would devour him.

"Nox." He quietly whispered and immediately the light on the tip of his wand vanished, leaving him in the dark to listen to the creature moving towards him.

He ceased breathing, just as he had imagined he would do when he had been falling. Sweat gathered on his forehead as his eyes got used to the looming darkness and he could finally see some of the contours that surrounded him. The wait, the anticipation was nearly too much. It was eating him up inside and, for a second, he wondered if he would survive his own nerves long enough to face this thing. The grip he had on his wand was getting slippery, as his clam hands became wetter and wetter, making it near impossible to keep a firm hold of it.

A snout, followed by four paws and a massive body, entered his vision. Sharp fangs coated in saliva glistened in the air, huge claws were attached to each of the four paws and yellow eyes glinted with an unspeakable malice as they searched for him. The hideous stench that invaded his nose each time the creature breathed out nearly made him gag and it was only the prospect of being caught that helped him swallow the vomit that threatened to flood his mouth. His throat burned with the acid that accompanied his stomach content and the fire spread down towards his chest as he swallowed. His limbs were shaking and he found that he couldn't take his eyes off of the wolf-like creature in front of him. Its broad frame, the bulging muscles and the aura of cruelty that surrounded it made his hair stand on end and he couldn't help but to feel that this being was even more terrifying than Lupin on the day of the full moon.

A rumbling growl was suddenly released as the creature turned towards him, yellow eyes penetrating his very being with their blood thirst and intensity. Its mouth opened in a malicious grin as a long, pink tongue peeked out to hungrily lick at jagged and slightly discoloured teeth. Roaring the creature pounced, throwing its entire body towards him in a giant leap.

"Shit!" Harry shouted cringing as he barely managed to dodge the razor sharp teeth aimed at his vulnerable throat.

And just like that a deadly dance began. The monster, never letting up, swiped after him over and over again with its deadly claws. While Harry, surprisingly agile, dodged every attempt at his life at the same time as he sent spell after spell at his advisory. Every attack, both on his side and on his attacker's side, was evaded and when they both took a break from their relentless movements, they were panting for breath.

"Isn't this lovely," Harry breathlessly drawled, doing his very best at seeming nonchalant. "You and me all alone in the dark, such a romantic way to spend the evening, don't you agree? Why, the only thing missing is the living candles and a five course dinner."

A series of growl were his only answer as the monster once again lunged. A choked groan danced over his lips as a single claw grazed his side, leaving a deep scratch in its wake. Immediately he pressed his free hand to the wound and put as much distance as he could between himself and his attacker. Sharp pain spread from the wound as his shirt and hand was drenched in blood. He had, however, no time to do anything about it as his enemy was once again running towards him at full speed.

"Incarcerous."He hissed, watching as ropes flew out of his wand, aimed at the wolf-like being, and missed.

Green eyes widened as he threw himself to the ground and rolled away. His wand was tightly clutched in his right hand as he hastily pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his wound throbbed as he did. He couldn't afford to allow it to distract him, not now when his life was, once again, in danger. The fact that the creature seemed to become more and more enraged with every spell Harry sent towards him spoke exactly of how difficult this would be to survive.

"Stupefy!" He shouted for what seemed like the tenth time and to his immense surprise the spell finally hit its target.

A loud yelp echoed off the cave walls as the creature fell to the ground, unable to move a single muscle. The silence that followed almost seemed eerie after all the noises they had made in their fight and Harry found, as he approached the creature, that he was more cautious and alert than usual. For all he knew the creature could be extremely resilient when it came to magic and so the chance that he could be pounced on the minute he came too close was very likely. And, as he liked his limbs to be exactly where they were, he made sure that he was out of range of those dangerous claws.

Yellow eyes darted furiously back and forth, looking for anything that could get him out of the body bind he was in. And it was as Harry gazed into those yellow eyes that he found himself to be in a little dilemma. Should he allow the creature to live? Or was the best course of action to end its life as painlessly and quickly as possible? Had it not been for the fact that he was all alone and in an environment that he knew nothing about, then he probably would have allowed him to live. But as it was, he couldn't afford to lose more magic than necessary and in order for him to keep up the body bind then a lot of magic that could be used for fighting whatever waited for him out there would be lost. He couldn't afford to take that chance.

The sound of a sword being released from its sheath resonated through the air, signalling that the wolf-like creature's fate had been sealed. A sickening sound of metal penetrating flesh, accompanied by a muffled whimper indicated that Harry had slain his enemy. The dark blood that coated his sword only proved that to be the truth.

With a sad glint in his eyes, Harry used the creature's own fur to wipe his sword clean of the blood. He had been taught to keep his sword clean and in shape, regrettably, this time he'd had to use the dead body in order to keep it that way. It was a shame really, that such fine fur was to be sullied in such a way. And Harry couldn't help but to run his hand through the thick fur, feeling the texture of those fine hairs before moving on, sending the dead creature one last look over his shoulder.

A few drops of blood stained his face as he, with a grimace, stripped himself of his bloodied shirt. His side, though not fatally injured, was throbbing in time with the beat of his heart as the blood that leaked out clotted and dried up, making it near impossible for any more of the life giving liquid to escape his body. He wanted very much to wash the parched blood from his body and clean himself so not a single trace lingered, but doing that would ensure that the bleeding would continue and losing more blood wasn't something he could afford.

Carefully, as he was not a masochist in any way, he prodded his side with a single finger, investigating the wound in order to see how much he would be handicapped should he end up in another fight. It didn't seem to be anything serious, no muscles had been cut and no bone showed, though that did not mean that it didn't hurt. It did, very badly in fact.

Swiftly he clothed himself again, covering up his injury before waving his wand and muttering a quiet 'lumos'. Immediately the walls were littered by dancing shadows as he moved away from the place where he had taken a life, the tip of his wand providing the light needed for him to see where he was going.

Like a ghost, Harry disappeared in the dark, leaving no evidence, other than the corpse, of him ever having been there. Silence reigned once again.

* * *

Screaming. His muscles were screaming, howling at him for release from the torture he was putting them through. Every movement sent a sharp pain through his body as the many injuries he had gained was stretched to an uncomfortable degree. The fact that he was constantly assaulted by new cuts did nothing to give his body some relief.

He was surrounded. Everywhere he looked, no matter where he turned, he came face to face with monsters that longed for his blood, longed to spill it from his body and thusly rob him of his life. It hadn't taken a long time before more of those wolf-like creatures had hunted him down and, upon finding him, launched themselves upon him in a furious attack.

Their attacks were so coordinated, so synchronized, that Harry found it near impossible to dodge them. Their claws, sharp and deadly, swiped at him so fast that he could practically hear them cutting through the air. He didn't know where to move and his movements were becoming sluggish and desperate. His mouth worked at a frantic pace, shouting spell after spell as he tried to defeat them all. Blood, the darkest colour of red that existed, ran down his face from a cut on his forehead, blinding him on his right eye as the life giving liquid seeped into it.

A piercing scream, tore its way through his throat as, suddenly, a claw was firmly latched onto his shoulder. The sharp weapon dug into his skin, tearing through muscle and sending more pain through his body than Harry had ever believed to be possible. The warm liquid that ran down his arm in streams reminded him that if he didn't do anything soon he would end up as dog food. His arm felt so heavy though, he couldn't lift it, could barely manage to keep his wand from slipping out of his fingers and so how on earth would he manage to actually use it to do the wand movements that was necessary?

Whimper after whimper flowed over his chapped lips as he frantically tried to get his arm to work, to heed his orders and get away from the claw latched onto him. He breathed heavily through his nose, his face rapidly paling as he was lifted into the air, like a ragged doll, before being harshly thrown into the cave wall. A sickening crunch and an agonized yelp, which sounded very much like a wounded animal, signified something in Harry's body breaking. And, as if that wasn't enough proof, the pain that accompanied that crunch only served to state the obvious; at least two of his ribs had been broken.

Black spots flooded his vision as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling while wheezing for breath. He had to get up, his life depended on him getting up, yet he couldn't manage it. His limbs were as heavy as boulders and it wasn't until he could feel the retched, warm breath of the creature that had thrown him against the wall on his throat that he took action. With a pained grimace, his foot shot up into the air and, with a yap from the one looming over him, connected with a snout. The wolf scattered away from him, wriggling its snout around as a mix of a whimper and a growl rumbled from its chest.

Immediately, Harry was onto his feet, running as fast as he could while clutching his side. He swung unsteadily from side to side, his feet hitting the ground heavier than usual as he could hear his pursuers coming closer. The blood loss was getting to him, sending waves of dizziness at him while he unsteadily stumbled through the cave.

"I must say," A deep voice with a happy note to it suddenly sounded from behind him. "You lasted longer than I had expected."

Grimacing, Harry spun around, green eyes widening as he took in the man before him. The first thought that came to mind was that he was tall, broad and very much like a man was supposed to be. Short black hair was stylishly ruffled in a way that made the mischievous gleam in those grey eyes stand out even more. High cheekbones, accompanied by a straight nose completed the aristocratic appearance of his face and served to contradict the playful air that surrounded him. His entire frame was clad in clothes very much like those of Lucius Malfoy, stylish and completely wizard. And because of those clothes Harry had the strangest notion that this man, this mysterious person that had popped out of nowhere, didn't belong in middle-earth. In fact, he seemed as if he had been dragged straight out of Harry's own world.

"Though considering you are a Potter that shouldn't come as a surprise," The man continued on, his lips parting in order to reveal white teeth. "Your father always had a remarkable ability to get out of the most noteworthy situations without harm. I must admit, I both hated and envied him for that."

"What do you mean my father?" Harry breathlessly asked, sagging slightly against a wall as his knees began shaking, his face rapidly paling to an even further extent as the growls that had been chasing him steadily came closer.

"Oh!" Two black eyebrows rose up in synch. "I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? How embarrassing, of course you wouldn't know, so silly of me."

Disbelieving green eyes, heavy with the effort it took for him to keep them up, watched as the cheerful man walked closer to his defeated form. It was incredible really, how the man managed to act so normal when Harry was there, bloody and bruised for the entire world to see.

"I am Alantar, the Blue wizard," He exclaimed, his face splitting into a wide grin as his grey eyes twinkled happily with a glint that seemed strangely familiar. "Though, you would perhaps know me better under the name Regulus Arcturus Black of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

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**(1) **That sentence is from the first book: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone.


	18. Oh Great

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **To those of you who haven't read book 6 and 7 there is a spoiler in this chapter!**  
**

**Disclaimer:**_ Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **I love Regulus! He's such a funny character to write, I have to say that he's one of my favourite people in this story. :D Anyway, this chapter is very important, some major things are revealed and, if you've read the books, you'll recognize that I've taken something from them and cleverly, in my opinion, entwined it with this story. I also want to thank quaero lumen and Sinfully Addicted for your fantastic reviews! I'm really grateful that you heeded my words and actually took the time to give me some criticism, If I was anywhere near you at this moment I would give you hug! = )

I hope you'll all continue to remember what I said in the last chapter. I'm fuelled by constructive criticism and I think of it as one of the most effective ways in improving my writing. Hope to get some more reviews with criticism!

CrimsonSnowflake

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_"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat." -_ Mother Teresa, 1910-1997

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**Chapter 18:**

**Oh great, I get to kill myself**

When Harry, joined by the Fellowship, had first set out from Rivendell, he had done so with the knowledge that he was the only wizard, in this world, from his own planet. He had continued to believe so during their time spent in Moria and Lothlorien and here, standing right in front of him, in a dark moist cave with wild wolves that thirsted for Harry's blood, was the living evidence that he had been wrong all along.

Regulus Black, the younger brother of Harry's godfather Sirius Black, was there before him, staring at him with mischievous grey eyes that twinkled and sparkled in a way that he had so often seen Sirius' do. The wide grin and relaxed pose indicated, quite clearly, that the man wasn't at all worried by the ever increasing growls that were approaching. In fact, it looked as if he couldn't even hear them. He was either very brave or extremely stupid. And because of the constant idiocy he had experienced when in the presence of Sirius, Harry was leaning more towards the latter than the former.

"Aren't you going to greet me with a hug?" The man, now known to be the Blue wizard, pouted while opening his arms in a wide invitation. "I am, after all, the brother of your godfather and that practically makes us...well, it makes us family!"

A choked whimper forced its way through Harry's throat as, suddenly, his knees buckled, giving up on him and harshly dropping him to the ground. Delicate skin burst and blood trickled forward as the hard soil and sharp stones dug into the palms he had used to lessen his fall. His teeth latched onto his plump lower lip to relentlessly chew on it as he forced down the scream that wanted to be released. His upper body had been jolted when he fell and thusly sending a new wave of pain through his battered body.

"Oh my, how stupid of me to forget, you're injured. Of course you won't be able to handle a hug." Regulus burst out. "Shall we settle for a simple kiss then? It isn't as satisfying, I know, but I'm afraid we have no other option."

Before Harry even had the time to digest his words, the wizard crouched down before him, grabbed his chin in order to hold him still, and placed a very wet, very much like a child would, kiss right on Harry's lips. It wasn't at all like the one Legolas had given him, was the first thought that popped up in Harry's mind, there wasn't any spark and his mind wasn't blown away as it had when it was Legolas' lips that had connected with his. And despite the fact that Harry should have been enraged by Regulus' forwardness, he couldn't help but to be disappointed that it wasn't anywhere near as fantastic as the one he had shared with the elf.

"_It's eating you up inside isn't it? The raw need you feel to be with me."_ Legolas' words echoed through his mind. He had lost, Harry realized. The blond elf had managed to get to him, he had penetrated Harry's defences and left behind him feelings that had only grown in his absence. And Harry, as deprived of affection as he had been in his life, had unconsciously embraced these feelings, allowing them to grow roots inside of him until there was no turning back.

"You see?!" Regulus' voice rang in his ears as he once again focused on the outer world, pushing his thought to the back of his mind. "It's not at all like a hug. You don't get the same warmth and satisfaction as you do when you embrace someone. No! When you get better we'll have a proper bear hug!"

Without waiting for an answer, Regulus swiftly grabbed a hold of Harry. Carefully, mindful of the young man's injuries, he hauled him to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist in order to steady him. "Now, let's see if we can find some rooms for you to stay in and then I can have Pallando, I believe you've met him, patch you up."

"By the way, "The man suddenly added, tilting his head slightly so he could look at Harry's face. "How was Gandalf doing when you last saw him? Still smoking that pipe of his? I swear he's had that old thing since the day we were put on this earth."

* * *

Green eyes, clouded by a small amount of sleep, opened sluggishly, staring straight up at a dark ceiling. Soft fabrics surrounded him, enveloping him in an embrace and warmth that was surprisingly comforting. A sharp pain travelled through his body as he shifted; burrowing himself even further into the comfy mattress he rested on. A strange serene atmosphere settled over him as he twisted his fingers in the silky textile of his blanket, allowing them to feel and glide over the smooth material in an unconcerned manner. The fact that he was completely naked under it didn't seem to faze him at all. In fact, the dreamy mist that blanketed his mind saw to it that he wouldn't react to a single thing being thrown at him. As rare as it was, he felt at peace.

Harry allowed it to wash over him as he knew that the feeling, as wonderful as it was, wouldn't last. At any given moment it would be ripped away from him, leaving him there, alone with the many worries that had been on his mind lately. He wanted to avoid that as long as possible and so he allowed himself to linger in bed, prolonging the afterglow of sleep for as long as he could.

A door slamming open with a loud boom spoiled that intention, though perhaps not as much as the sentence that sounded in his ears immediately after.

"Harry, my favourite apprentice, rise and shine!" Regulus' cheerful voice rang in the air as the wizard stepped into the room. "The sun is shining, the wind is practically nonexistent and all in all it is a lovely day to receive some new bruises on!"

An agonized groan fluttered across his lips as his warm cocoon made up of blankets was brutally ripped away from him, leaving him as bare as the day he had been born. Goose bumps erupted on his soft skin as the harsh, cold air washed over him at full strength. His eyes narrowed, losing the peaceful haze that ha previously occupied them as he sent a vicious glare towards Regulus. Harry had never claimed to be a morning person and he wasn't about to start now. No, he was perfectly content to be moody and snappy when roused from sleep in such a way. The fact that it was Regulus, his daily torturer and teacher, just made it that much more tempting to release the snarl that tickled deep in his throat. It had no effect, however, as a bundle of clothes were thrown straight in his face, ruining the snarl before it even had the chance to make itself known.

"Get dressed, get dressed!" Regulus cried while his face split in half by an enormous grin. "We have many things to do today!"

The Blue wizard, it seemed, was the total opposite of Harry. He was, no matter what time of the day, always cheerful, even in the mornings. There hadn't been a single time when Harry had seen him without some sort of smile on his face. At times, for example when being woken up, he found it to be annoying, though usually he was amused by it. The funny and large man, for he was no wimp, almost seemed like a child on occasion and Harry had to admit that he had more often than not improved his mood.

With a huff, Harry clothed himself, lifting his heavy limbs in order to get them through the required holes. Muscles flexed under bruised skin as he got to his feet, making sure his pants wouldn't slip down from his waist before he moved to draw his shirt over his head. His state of half-awareness didn't allow him to have his usual reaction of shyness; in fact, the audience watching him as he covered up his nakedness didn't bother him at all. It was one of those rare moments when Harry was too sleepy to care about it.

For three days now he had done nothing but train, eat, sleep and relieve himself. Regulus, it seemed, had made it his task to hone every skill Harry had. Magic was practiced regularly and he was taught how to fight with both his sword and his wand. On the battlefield, Regulus had pointed out, he would need every advantage he could get, and if that included using two weapons at a time then Harry would damn well learn it. He wouldn't send him back to Gandalf without having shaped him into a proper warrior. His reasoning for this was, as many things concerning Regulus, nothing too serious; in fact, most people would have thought it to be something trivial, but it would seem that Regulus took the threat of being teased by his fellow Istari very seriously.

And so, because of that, Harry had been going through days on days with being taught how to survive. His swordsmanship was quickly honed, trained to perfection and tested by an eager Regulus. Understandably his body was constantly littered with bruises and scratches and when one disappeared a new one was always ready to take its place. Harry imagined that Hermione would have been horrified to see him, and he was secretly grateful that she couldn't, he didn't think he could survive training at the same time as Hermione's mother instincts kicked in on him. His magic lessons didn't create as much injuries as his swordsmanship, but in the end it was always they that drew the energy straight out of him. It was tiring, having to uphold a constant stream of magic for hours on end with no pauses and Regulus was relentless when it came to that department. He couldn't expect to become a true wizard without sweating a little, he had said.

With one last longing look in the direction of his warm, cosy bed Harry fastened the belt his sword hung in around his waist and slipped his wand up into the holster he had around his right arm. He wouldn't have the time for breakfast, so as he passed the kitchen Harry swiftly grabbed a green apple and took a large bite out of that. Like a pro he found his way through the labyrinth of hallways that the cave consisted of, until, finally, sunlight hit his face and warmed his skin. The training grounds were just as they had been the night before. Trees, bushes and high grass was scattered across the clearing, providing excellent hiding places that Harry had used several times while fighting Regulus. The animals that had previously occupied the grounds had long since relocated, finding that the constant noise of someone fighting disturbed their lives.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Regulus that greeted him this day. Instead Pallando stood there, as still as stock while not uttering a single sound. Harry hadn't gotten to know Pallando as good as he had Regulus and he had the suspicion that he never would. He would be leaving in a few weeks, Ainion and Calanon were waiting for him after all, and, by the impression he had gotten from the wizard during his stay there, he seemed like a man that needed time and long conversations in order to open up to someone. Harry didn't have the time for that.

"You're late." Pallando deadpanned.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I had to get dressed; I figured that you, unlike Regulus, wouldn't appreciate it if I showed up naked."

"Tardiness, no matter the reason, will not be tolerated." Without waiting for an answer Pallando moved towards a log before sitting down. With a small hand movement the wizard motioned for Harry to join him. And it wasn't until Harry's rear was firmly seated on the ground that he continued.

"Have you ever wondered why you are in this world, sitting here beside me, being taught things that many only dream of knowing?" Brown eyes turned to watch Harry knowingly.

"Of course I have, anyone in my position would."

"And have you received an answer?" A small smile spread across Pallando's gruff features.

"No."

"Then let me give you one, shall I?"

"By all means," Harry said, leaning back in a relaxed manner as his back connected with the log Pallando was reclining on. "I'm all ears."

"You were destined to come here, just as Voldemort was destined to send you here and you and Legolas are destined to be together. Everything that has happened to you here is a part of honing your skills and preparing you for the things you'll have to face in your own world." A large, calloused hand reached up to run through dark, unruly hair before the man continued. "Of course, whether or not you'll actually return is entirely up to you. But let's not go into that quite yet; the time for your decision won't be happening anytime soon."

He paused for a moment, allowing silence to spread between them as the wind gently nipped at their clothes. The spring air was warm, as any trace of the winter had finally been erased. It was quite clear that summer was approaching.

"The end is always the beginning, you know. The only way for you to get back home is if you die, death is both your end and your beginning and as such it can't be avoided, no matter how hard you try."

"So what you're saying," Harry began, dragging a hand through his ear. "Is that in order to get back to my world I'll have to die?"

"Yes."

"Does it matter how much time I use before dying?" He questioned.

"If you want to save your wizarding world, then yes." Pallando drawled, not at all affected by discussing Harry's death.

"Why?"

"Because, if you use more than a year, then the battle predestined to happen will already have happened and your dark lord will have taken over the world. If that occurs, the Valar will stop you from returning and confine you to this world." A nonchalant smile decorated the man's face. "Of course, it is all entirely up to you. You can choose to kill yourself before the time runs out or you can choose not to, in other words you have to choose between either death or the guilt of knowing that you could have done something to save them."

"So basically you're telling me that I have exactly one year to kill myself and if I don't do it before then, that all is lost?"

"All is lost for your friends, yes. You, no."

The man didn't give Harry a chance to retort as he continued to speak.

"Do you know what a horcrux is? No? I didn't expect you to. It is a very a dark piece of magic that rips your soul into several pieces and makes you immortal, as close as you can come to immortal anyway. Your Dumbledore, the clever wizard that he is, has discovered that Voldemort has used this magic on himself and as such he has begun to search for them in order to destroy them. I believe there are three, out of the seven that was created, left, a cup, a snake and a person. When these are all destroyed, Voldemort can be killed, just as any other being. Do you know what this means to that little prophesy of yours?"

Harry shook his head, no.

"It means that so long as you take your own life and destroy the horcrux that is imbedded in your scar, then anyone can take the life of Voldemort. It doesn't have to be you."

"But I have to be the one to take my life? No one else?" Harry inquired as he uneasily traced the shape of his scar.

"Unfortunately, yes. In some way or other you have to kill Voldemort and by killing yourself, and thusly the horcrux, you fulfil that requirement."

"Well isn't that wonderful, I get to kill myself."

* * *

Harry found that he had taken the news of his looming death rather well. Indeed, he couldn't imagine anyone receiving the news in a more gracious fashion than he had. He hadn't burst out into tears, or turned into a depressed little blob that could barely be considered a human being. No, Harry had taken it with his head held high, or so he liked to believe, and accepted the fact that he would die by his own hands without anything further than a small fit of anger that had resulted in nothing more than a few ruined pillows. They had, of course, easily been replaced and everything was as it had once been.

He was still being taught how to properly control his magic while at the same time wielding a sword, and Pallando, being the man he was, had made it his personal duty to form Harry into a proper young man that kept his cool and stayed patient no matter how much Regulus got on his nerves. The news of Boromir's death had reached them the day before, and Harry found that even though he would miss the man, as their conversations towards the end of their journey had been very much welcomed; they hadn't established the sort of bond that would have compelled Harry to mourn as if his best friend had died. In reality, he discovered that his mind was more focused on the fact that Merry and Pippin had been kidnapped and that the Fellowship had split up to an even further degree than the loss of Boromir.

He wasn't allowed to leave yet though, no matter how much he wanted to join them and help out. His training still hadn't finished and he supposed that, although anxious to be of some use again, he could wait at least one day before storming to the rescue, albeit, only one day, he would be leaving tomorrow.

At the same time as he was looking forward to meeting with the Fellowship again, he couldn't help but to feel that the presence of Regulus would be sorely missed. The man was such a joy to be around that losing his company was, indeed, something he wasn't looking forward to. Not a single moment spent in the man's presence was boring and Harry found that he really appreciated the wizard's efforts in keeping Harry's mind focused on the positive things in life. It was amazing how attached he had become to his goduncle, as Regulus liked to refer to himself as, in the duration of three weeks. And he promised himself that he would try, at the very best of his abilities, to visit him one last time before offing himself.

"...and if anyone and I mean anyone, orcs, evil dark lords and even that elf of yours, does something to hurt you, you come straight to me, alright? Uncle Reggy's going to take care of them for you!"

Harry was very confident that Regulus would miss him as well.

"As if I'll ever let someone hurt my dear Harry, the mere thought is preposterous, we Blacks take care of each other and that includes you, you hear me, young man?! A single scratch and you let me know!"

More than confident actually.

"Easy now, my friend." Pallando suddenly said, stepping forward in order to restrain his companion. "Harry is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, we've both seen to that."

"Oh shush you!" Regulus spoke, swatting at his friend as if he was a mere fly. "I'm allowed to worry when my only nephew is about to take his first steps into the world. He'll be all alone, facing those horrible things that are out there."

The fact that it was at least twelve hours until Harry was leaving spoke very much of how much of a mother hen the enthusiastic wizard was. Harry had had a slight hunch when the man had complained of how little fat he had on his body, and that hunch had been upgraded to a suspicion when he had begun force feeding Harry after he had decided that the young wizard didn't eat enough. This conversation though, established him as a real worrywart and Harry was very much amused by it all.

"I'm sorry to ruin this for you, Regulus, but I have, in fact, been in the world before. This is nothing new to me." A large grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, threatening to burst forth.

"See there, he'll be fine, Regulus." A large hand lightly rubbed Regulus' shoulder in a comforting manner. "If it pleases you, I'll make sure that the two elves waiting for him won't let him out of their sight until they've reached Rohan."

"Fine!" The grown man pouted, launching himself towards Harry with the intention of dragging him into a hug. "Rob me of my amusement, why don't you."

"Now," Regulus spoke as he had managed to lure Harry into his embrace. "It's time for bed, I think. You'll need all the sleep you can get for tomorrow and I'm sure that this will be the last night in a very long time that you'll be able to sleep in a real bed."

Was this how Ron felt like when Molly fussed over him, Harry wondered while relaxing into his fellow wizard's arms, if so he didn't really understand why the red head always complained about it. It was a nice feeling, he deduced while allowing Regulus to lead him in the direction of his rooms. After three weeks of staying there, the cave didn't seem as inhabitable as he had believed them to be, in fact, they were quite cosy when you get used to it. The moss could even be considered a homey decoration that fitted the Blue wizard's home to a t.

Rounding a very familiar corner, his room came within sight. The wooden door that kept the hallway and his bedroom separated was a welcome vision as he realized that Regulus had, indeed, been correct when assuming that Harry was sleepy. His eyelids were becoming heavy and his movements more sluggish. For once, he didn't mind that Regulus undressed him and put him into bed as if he was a mere child. Truthfully, he couldn't even remember that the man had left as he had fallen asleep the moment his head had connected with the soft fabric of his pillow.

* * *

The next morning, after a tearful goodbye from Regulus, Harry was guided back to Ainion and Calanon by Pallando. The trip was mostly silent, just as he knew Pallando preferred it to be, and Harry realized that he didn't mind it in the slightest. Though he didn't know the wizard as well as he would have liked, he knew to appreciate the underlying goodbye as Pallando patted his back before departing, leaving him alone in the company of the two elves.

"How was it?" Calanon questioned as they sat in front of the fire that night.

"Not at all as I had expected," The young man responded, his lips quirking upwards in a small smile. "It was very nice, very nice indeed."

"Was he at all as we had guessed him to be?" Ainion cut in before his brother could while keeping an arm around Harry's shoulders as he tugged him into his side, his brother mirroring his move on Harry's other side.

"You mean a wrinkled, old man with a hooked nose, bald head and a rotten personality?" He asked.

"Mhm." Ainion hummed.

"No, we weren't even remotely close in guessing what he was like."

"Ah," Calanon threw a new log onto the fire, pausing to watch the orange flame crackle for a moment before settling back again. "And where are we heading to now? You have something specific in mind?"

"Rohan," Harry said, shivering slightly, even though summer was approaching it seemed that winter still hadn't entirely relinquished its hold on the night. "We're going to Rohan."


	19. The Wizard In Rohan

**Titl****e: **Figthing Another War**  
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**Author:**_ CrimsonSnowflake  
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**Warning: **There is some fighting in this chapter but not something of major concern. **  
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**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.  
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**A/N: **Over 5500 words have I written in this chapter! I'm so proud of myself because I really struggled with this one, I was in the middle of a writer's block when I wrote it so it really took me some effort to begin with this chapter(the writer's block was in the beginning).

Anyway, I'm so happy! Over a thousand people have this story on their alert list, and I mean, seriously, I hadn't expected such a response when I first posted this story. I had imagined that I could get about a 100 reviews at the most, but here we are over 600 reviews! Thank you to all of those who actually took the time to post a review, I really appreciate it!

Hope everyone enjoys this chapter because this is what you've all been waiting for!

* * *

_"All that we are is the result of what we have thought. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him. If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him." - _Buddha, 563 BC - 483 BC.

* * *

**Chapter 19:**

**The Wizard In Rohan**

His first look at Rohan had been disappointingly ordinary. It hadn't taken his breath away as Hogwarts had done, nor had it inspired a jolt of awe and wonder in him as Rivendell did. It was quite plain and if it hadn't been for Calanon pointing it out to him, Harry never would have believed that they had finally arrived. When Pallando had spoken of it he had made it seem as if there was no better place on earth, he had spoken of the townspeople as a cheery folk and told him that there was no place on earth that had the same cosy atmosphere as Rohan did. The young wizard could easily see that the town wasn't at all as he had imagined it to be. There was a heavy cloud of depression hanging over the city and it was quite obvious that all was not as it should have been.

No, this wasn't at all how he had imagined it would be.

Rocking with the motion of his horse, Harry gazed about, taking in every gloomy detail. There was a bar to his right, a shabby bar that very much reminded him of the prancing pony. Laughter and loud voices could easily be heard from the outside and, just as Harry rode past it, two men were thrown outside, grimy with dirt and sweat and stumbling from the alcohol in their system. One of them, the one closest to Harry, looked up and sent him a crooked grin, revealing his yellow teeth in a rather uncaring manner. To his left Calanon and Ainion rode their own horses, expertly ignoring the many stares levelled at them. Travelling with two elves, Harry mused, was perhaps not the best way to be subtle. Wherever they went with their blond hair and blue eyes, even if they were covered up, that were so distinguishing, they were bound to attract some attention, unwanted attention. Their arrival in Rohan was supposed to have been a secret, the plan had been to sneak in, investigate and decide any further actions based on the things they found. Harry had even gone through the trouble of acquiring a dark cloak that would cover his face; it was, of course, no longer needed. They had been the centre of attention the moment they had taken a step into the town.

With a soft tug, he made his horse stop, gracefully jumping down from it before tying its reins to a wooden pole. "Let's see if we can get some information in the pub, shall we?"

The brothers followed his example, though in a much more refined way than he had, and walked straight for the door after having secured their own horses. The moment they opened the door an onslaught of noise hit them, laughter, shouting and the sound of men cheering on a brawl slammed into his ears like a great wave. A sneer of revulsion covered his face as he moved towards the bar, skilfully weaving his way around the many men lying on the floor. Happy hour, it seemed, had come early this day.

Dust and dirt covered every surface and Harry made sure, out of sanitary reasons, not to touch anything that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months. In other words, the only surface Harry touched was the floor, and that was just because he had no choice. When they finally reached the bar, having crossed the endless sea of passed out men, the barman immediately greeted them. Greed shone in his eyes as he took in their appearance, their clothes were obviously of a very fine fabric and as such the first thought that popped into the man's head was the many ways in which he could relieve the strangers of their, obviously, heavy money.

"And what can I do for you, gentlemen?" Dark teeth, on the verge of rotting, were bared in an almost lipless grin as the man continued to wipe the filthy glass in his hand with an equally dirty rag.

"We've just arrived, you see," Harry began, barely managing to keep himself from taking a step back and away from the putrid breath that filled the air when the barman spoke. "And would very much like to know how things are managed around here."

A discreet hand holding two silver coins was shown to the man before suddenly disappearing in the folds of Harry's cloak.

"Ah," The man burst out, his murky brown eyes practically shining. "Then you've come to the right man, indeed! Anything you want to know old Ernie here can tell you!"

"Then I would very much like to know a little about your King."

"King Théoden isn't the same as he was before, I'm afraid. I've heard he's rotting away in that home of his, becoming more and more polluted by Gríma Wormtongue's poisonous words. Things haven't been the same here in Rohan since that snivelling man became the King's advisor. Someday he'll lead us all to our doom, mark my words."

"Hmm, not the same as before you say?" Harry murmured, more to himself than the bar man, though he got an answer anyway.

"Not at all as he was before. There was a time when King Théoden doted on his people, that time has passed I'm afraid." Ernie spoke, switching the glass he had been polishing for another one. The glass that was meant to be clean, Harry disdainfully noted, was now dirtier than it had been when Ernie had first begun cleaning it.

"Well, then," Harry said, throwing the two silver coins towards the man before turning away. "Thank you for the information Ernie, you've been of great help."

"Anytime, mister, anytime!" The barman cheerfully replied, caressing his newly earned money.

Walking as fast as he could, without seeming to be in a hurry, Harry and his companions exited the pub, leaving the dirt, alcohol and brawls behind them as they stepped out onto the street. The fresh air was, indeed, a relief from the old, heavy air that had been inside the pub. And, amazingly enough, the streets were cleaner than the tavern had been.

"A charming place, wouldn't you agree Calanon?" Ainion said, grabbing onto his horse before easily climbing on top of it. "Such a welcoming atmosphere."

"I'll fondly remember it as the best establishment we've ever been in, my dear brother." Calanon dead panned, his expression never changing from the serious mask it always wore.

With a quiet chuckle Harry seated himself on his horse, guiding it out onto the street again as they moved away from the inn. The tavern had, undeniably, left its impression on all of them. It was the first time Harry had been in a bar that wasn't as neat and clean as The Leaky Cauldron and he had the vague impression that, had Tom seen it he would have been horrified.

A flurry of movements suddenly caught his eye, drawing his attention away from the pub and towards the cluster of guards that was making their way down the street. A small sense of foreboding blossomed in his chest as he took in the many swords that were attached to each of the soldier's hips. By the way their gaze was directed straight at him and his two elven companions it was quite obvious that they meant to cut them off.

"We've got company." Harry said, continuing to pretend as if he hadn't seen the group heading towards them.

Calculating green eyes scanned their surroundings for a possible escape. Right, left, forward and behind, they were coming from every direction, violently pushing their way through the crowd while clutching their weapons. It was quite clear that this confrontation was meant to happen, and they could only go along with it. By now they were all aware of the situation they had trotted right into and Ainion, Calanon and Harry knew that they couldn't get out of this without some sort of fight. It wasn't even certain that they _could_ get out of it. Discreetly Harry brushed his fingers along the wood of his wand, fingering it for a moment before grabbing a hold of his reins, willing his horse to slow down.

"This," Harry said, watching as the soldiers formed a circle around them. "I must say, is an unexpected welcome. Do you greet all your guests in such a way? It's charming, really, very flattering."

"Silence!" A gruff looking guy shouted, pointing his sword straight at Harry. "You are to come with us, the king _requests _to see you."

It was quite clear that the King hadn't requested such a thing; more like ordered it in fact. And it was obvious, by the looks of the hostile stares and the sharp swords pointed at them, that they were expected to obey, either that or they would be forced to. In other words, they didn't have a choice.

Harry didn't mind though, it would only make their job easier.

"Certainly, the King shall get what he wants." Harry graciously replied, not at all faced by the glare sent his way.

With a resigned expression on his face he surrendered the reins, allowing one of the soldiers to lead him and his horse towards the house that was obviously, by the size and the fact that it was situated at the top of the hill, Théoden's home. With a quick glance back at his two companions Harry made sure that they knew not to cause any trouble, their whole purpose for going to Rohan had been to meet with the king, and now that it would seem that they would get to do so without any of the hassle Harry had expected it wouldn't do to spoil that. No, they would go along with the guards, even if the way they looked at them sent shivers up his spine. It was perfectly clear that the guards wanted nothing more than to tear them down from their horses and beat the shit out of them. Their reason for this was as many other things, a mystery.

"You'll need to relinquish your weapon." One of the less hostile soldiers spoke as they halted before the large wooden door that would lead them into Théoden's abode.

Harry, hesitating only to run his fingers lightly over the hilt, slowly loosened his belt, bringing his sword with it before handing it to the guard closest to him. Calanon and Ainion followed his example, giving up their own weapons, though the disgruntlement that marred their faces was a clear indicator that they did so reluctantly. The resentment that radiated was something that wasn't at all associated with elves, and Harry was quite surprised—as it was the first time he had seen them like that.

When the guards were finally satisfied that they didn't have any further weapons on their person, the large door was pushed open, swinging inwards with a sharp, ear-splitting creak. Both men and women, obviously a part of the court if the quality of their clothes was an indication, crowded the hallway. The polite conversation revolving around politics and money faded away into a dead silence as the group combine of guards, two elves and a wizard stepped into the room. A mixture of curiosity, awe and suspicion flashed across their faces as they relentlessly stared at the foreign guests passing by. It was quite obvious that elves and wizards didn't usually dwell in Rohan.

Understandably, Harry didn't at all feel inclined to stare back. He found that ignoring them was the best approach when the option of hexing them wasn't available, however tempting it was. The self-righteous and arrogant atmosphere that contaminated the air around them forced him to scrunch up his nose in a way one would do when they had smelled something particularly revolting. Harry didn't care for people who thought themselves better than everybody else, and he could easily tell that these people, these nobles liked to think of themselves as the closest thing a person could come to being a God.

He looked away from them. Turning his gaze to the person he had come to see instead. A throne, more modest than Harry had believed it would be, was situated at the head of the room, ensuring that the king was able to see every nook and cranny. Théoden himself was truly a pathetic and unexpected sight. Wrinkles upon wrinkles of pale white skin formed his face; his body was slumped heavily in his chair and if it hadn't been for the slight up and down motion of his chest Harry would have thought him to be dead. Harry had imagined that the horse lord would be a much more magnificent sight, but this old, withered man was anything but.

"Welcome to my humble abode." A raspy voice, sounding as if it was overlapped by something, rang in the air. Dull, blue eyes opened up, narrowing in on him with a strange glint shining in them. "I hope my faithful guards weren't too rough on you, they tend to be somewhat eager at times, you see."

"Oh no," Harry replied, green eyes taking in every detail of the room, the people in it and the King himself with suspicion. "They were all as polite as can be, I assure you."

"Good, good." He murmured, measuring Harry in a single sweep of his eyes. "Then I'm sure you are eager to know the reason why I've summoned you here."

"It would be nice to know, yes."

"It is at a request of a good friend of mine, Saruman the White, he is very curious about you." Théoden explained, leaning forwards slightly in a very eager manner as his pink tongue came out to wet his dry and chapped lips for a split second. "I must admit, I had never imagined you to be so...young."

"Saruman you say?" Immediately alarms were going off in his head, his eyes narrowed in on the man before him, doing a second, more critical, assessment of him.

Slowly he inched backwards, moving closer and closer towards his two companions and further away from the King. Long fingers reached up to discreetly caress his wand, drawing invisible patterns on the sturdy wood as his hand itched to draw it. He had been right, all was not as it should be in Rohan and it would seem that the problem was the King himself and, by the way he had spoken so highly of him, Saruman was the source to all this. Gandalf hadn't trusted him, and with good reason, so Harry would follow in his footsteps and keep his wits about him.

"I'm glad to hear I interest you so, King Théoden, but I'm sorry to say that I can't humour you any longer, my companions and I need to continue with our journey." Harry said, plastering a small smile on his face.

"Oh my," Théoden burst out, much louder than Harry had expected from the frail being. "You aren't in that much of a hurry, I'm sure. I'll have some rooms prepared for you while you tell me all about yourself."

"I'm sorry, but I cannot take you up on your offer, however generous it may be. I have things that need to be done and as such I don't have the time to stay here in your gracious presence, my lord."

"Well then," The King replied, his voice deepening and his eyes blackening as, finally, Harry's suspicions were confirmed. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. My curiosity is quite unquenchable and as such I'm forced to keep you here until that interest is satiated. Seize him!"

Saruman had finally chosen to show himself.

In a blur of motions Harry drew his wand, immediately sending a stunning spell towards one of the guards before spinning around in order to face the ones that had begun creeping up on them from behind. The cling of swords being drawn rang in his ears as the weapons sang in the air and cut a straight line towards him. Hurriedly he dodged, throwing himself to the floor and rolling out of the way and throwing a stupefy at his attackers.

Jumping to his feet while at the same time performing a series of advanced wand movements, Harry conjured himself a sword, gripping it tightly in his left hand as if testing it before lunging at his opponents. With a grunt he forced back one of his advisories at the same time as he made a slashing motion with his wand, forcing the other into unconsciousness.

In a show of his newly achieved agility, Harry threw himself down to the floor and straight between the feet of a brown haired guard as he swung his sword in a cutting movement that managed to slice a wound in the man's back. Staying true to his training, he was back on his feet again in a matter of seconds, already hacking away at the rest of the soldiers. Until, finally, he was standing in front of Théoden with his sword pressed tightly against the king's neck.

"I must say," Harry chuckled." Killing you will be much easier than I had imagined."

"Go on; run me through with your pathetic sword." A shaky hand reached up to join Harry's and wrapping around the hilt, pushing the sword so it cut into the skin and a drop of blood pimpled forth. "I care not."

"I'm not stupid." He snorted, making sure that the blade didn't cut any further into Théoden's flesh. "I know of your manipulations, killing this body will cause you nothing but a small amount of pain as your soul is ripped back to your own flesh and bone, Théoden though, is an entire different matter."

"So Alantar has taught you something, has he?" An ugly sneer covered the man's face as Saruman, with a wave of his hand, threw Harry back and away from him, straight into a wall. "Still, the fool could never beat me and I very much doubt his measly apprentice could."

Any sign of conversation ceased to exist as an invisible force grabbed a hold of Harry's body, lifting him up in the air before once again throwing him into the wall, more force behind it this time. The breath was knocked out of him as the harsh surface connected with his back; his sword was knocked out of his hand, leaving him there with only his wand to defend himself with. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he was dropped to the ground, his head hitting the wooden floor with a force that left Harry's world spinning. He was sure that the whole side of his face would be a giant bruise the next morning.

Gritting his teeth, Harry tightened the grip he had on his wand and used both of his hands to push himself up to his feet. Green eyes were ablaze with rage as he swung his wand in deliberate slashing movements before pointing it straight at his fellow wizard.

"Confringo!"He shouted, watching disappointedly as a statue, which had been summoned at the last moment, was blown apart.

He followed up with a sectumsempra and a body bind before finally he managed to get through the old man's defence. "Reducto!"

With a loud yell Saruman was thrown across the room, much in the same manner as Harry had been, and straight into a wall. Though he didn't stay down as long as Harry had, in fact, it didn't take long for Harry to find himself trapped up against a wall by the same invisible force that had earlier been throwing him around like a ragged doll.

"You think yourself better than me?!" The elder wizard snarled, eyes shining with cruelty as he steadily approached his opponent. "Me?! The White wizard?!"

"A rat is better than you!" Harry shouted, his hands clenching into fists. "You forfeited your title as the White wizard the moment you betrayed your brothers to Sauron!"

"Betrayed them?! No, I am saving them! Do you really believe they'll win this war?! Lord Sauron is indestructible! Serving him is the only way I can keep them from being killed!" Saruman roared back while raising his hand high up in the air.

"Don't fool yourself; the only way you can keep them from being killed is by staying by their side to fight Sauron. You are a coward, Saruman, a true coward!"

The hand descended, harshly connecting with his cheek and forcing Harry's head to snap to the side so hard that it was a wonder it didn't smack straight into the wall. The rapidly reddening shape of a hand tainted his pale skin, standing out against the rest of his unharmed flesh.

"Saruman!" Gandalf's voice unexpectedly resonated in the room, drawing everyone's attention to the entrance.

And there, truly a sight for sore eyes, they stood, just as they had been when Harry had last seen them. Gandalf, clothed in white, looked very much like the jolly old man Harry knew him to be, though this was slightly obscured by the dangerous scowl settled on his face as he stared at Saruman. Aragon was looking as regal as ever, his strong hand was settled on his sword, caressing it as he was prepared to draw it at any given moment. Merry and Pippin were bundled up together, their own smaller swords drawn as they glared at Harry's attacker. If it hadn't been for the situation they were in Harry would have thought it to be a very charming and cute sight.

Unlike the two hobbits, however, Gimli was not a cute sight. The red head was, just as Harry had expected, drawing himself up to his full length as his large axe rested on his shoulder in a menacing way that spoke fully of how much it could cut through. The dwarf seemed torn between being happy that they were finally reunited and enraged at the state they had found Harry to be in, the fact that the elves that were with his favourite wizard hadn't protected him did nothing to improve his mood. And Legolas was the scariest sight of them all. The elf's blue eyes were burning with his hatred, indignation and the urge to attack as he took a small step forward and pulled out his bow and arrow. In less than a second the arrow was notched and pointed straight at Saruman.

"Let him go, Saruman." Gandalf repeated while taking one threatening step forward with his staff tightly gripped in his hand.

"Release him?!" Blue eyes shadowed in darkness narrowed in on the other wizard, thin, chapped lips curled upwards in order to reveal his white teeth in a hostile sneer. "Do not presume to think that I take orders from you, Mithrandir! Remember who your superiors are!"

Gritting his teeth, Harry tightened the grip he had on his wand. Green eyes moved to glare at the one trapping him against the wall as he carefully, trying to be as discreet as possible, began moving his wand in circles, then slightly up until, finally, he made a slashing motion. "Reducto!"

The suffocating tight grip he had previously been held in was immediately relinquished, allowing him to slump down to the ground. His black hair, which had grown considerably longer since he had first arrived, curtained his face, hiding it from view as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. His hands shook slightly as Calanon and Ainion stepped forward, grabbing his shoulders as they gently heaved him up onto his feet. They waited for a moment, making sure that he was steady before stepping back again, understanding that Harry wanted to finish this without any help from the outside.

With a snarl, which looked strangely out of place on his features, Harry pounced. The tip of his wand lit up with a red light as his magic crackled around him. The air was tense with power as Saruman's magic reacted with his, rising up to meet the challenge in a show of purple light. Harry was perfectly aware that it was nowhere near as strong as it could have been had Saruman been in his own body, but he had to admit that even though the old wizard wasn't at his strongest, his power truly was impressing.

The hair at the back of his neck stood on end as adrenaline rushed through his veins, the anticipation of a fight made his eyes lighten; shining with the excitement he was feeling. At last, he would be able to truly test Regulus' teachings, to practice them and show exactly how much he had improved.

Blue flames with a white edge to them suddenly erupted from his wand, taking on the form of a giant, Chinese, dragon as it snaked its way around his body. A loud roar filled the air as sharp fangs made out of flames, just as the rest of the dragon's body was, were revealed. Screams could be heard as the court members that had been witnesses to the situation fled the room, the heat and sight of a dragon, which they thought was a long extinct species, became too much for them.

"Fire, huh," Saruman muttered as he climbed to his feet. "What a surprise, considering that your master commands the opposite element. What an enigma you've turned out to be...Interesting, indeed."

Harry uttered no reply as he moved his wand in a wide circle around himself, the dragon following his every movement as it sped up. Sweat pimpled forth on his forehead, a result of both the heat and the concentration and amount of magic he had to use in order to keep the dragon alive. A gust of wind suddenly blew up in the room as a silvery mist began circling Saruman, much in the same way Harry's dragon was moving. The contours of a bird could be seen as Saruman suddenly jumped forward, sending a blast of wind straight at Harry, a wide grin twisting his features.

Another roar, this one more of a growl, was released as the young man's dragon lunged, twisting and rolling in the air as it flew to shield Harry from the large eagle headed his way. A loud boom, very much like the ones you would hear during a storm, resonated through the room as the blast sent several of the remaining people flying. Without waiting a second, Harry once again made the fire attack, not letting up on his opponent as he forced him to become defensive rather than offensive. And suddenly, with one last show of its strength and power, the dragon managed to engulf the eagle in its flames, destroying the wind and leaving Saruman there without anything to defend himself with.

White eyes glowed as the dragon wrapped itself around Saruman, amazingly enough without burning Théoden's body, constricting any possible movements and keeping the wizard from trying to escape.

"Gandalf," Harry finally spoke, closing his eyes as he called upon the last of his powers to keep the flames intact. "You know what to do, right?"

"Of course." The white clad man replied, already stepping towards the prisoner with his staff raised high up in the air.

"Good," Harry said, staggering on his feet as the flame dragon dissolved in a puff of smoke. "Then you won't mind it if I get some sleep."

And with that Harry collapsed to the ground, his green eyes rolling to the back of his head as darkness and unconsciousness enveloped him in its warm embrace.

* * *

"Welcome back to the living." Gandalf's deep, kind voice sounded in his ears as green eyes fluttered open. "For a while there we didn't think you'd ever wake up."

"It's nice to see you too." Harry dryly retorted, pushing himself up to support himself on the back of his elbows. "For how long have I been asleep?"

"Oh, not to worry, two or three days at the most." The old man replied, lips tilting upwards in a gentle smile as one of his large hands came up to caress Harry's head.

"Hmm." He hummed, eyes closing in delight as calloused fingers began carding through his hair. It had been too long, he mused, since he had had a moment like this with his fellow wizard.

"The others have been worried about you, particularly a certain elf." Gandalf said, a sly grin crossing his face as his hands ceased their treatment. "He's been very restless, barely left your side and snapped at anyone, for the most part your other elven companions, who wanted to undress you in order to check you for any injuries. I must say, you've got yourself a very protective mate there, Harry."

"He threatened Calanon and Ainion?!" Harry questioned, eyes opening up in surprise.

"Oh yes, threatened and threw them out of your rooms, quite effectively too. He even contemplated on denying me access, I'm sure." Amusement seemed to pour off of the man in waves. "Though me being the wonderful and trustworthy man I am, managed to convince him to let me in, I can be very persuasive when I set my mind to it."

"Now!" Gandalf said before Harry could reply. "I'm sure, after your long nap, you're strong enough to get out of bed now, so what do you think of joining the others at breakfast?"

"It would be a pleasure." Harry grinned, throwing off his quilt and moving so his bare feet connected with the cold stone floor of his chambers.

"Your clothes are in the bathroom, I'll be waiting for you right here while you dress yourself."

"Thank you."

It hadn't taken Harry very long to clothe himself, despite the fact that he had drained a vast amount of power his body had recuperated while he was asleep. And so, not much time had passed before Harry found himself standing in front of a wooden door, a grinning Gandalf standing by his side. Effortlessly the larger man pushed the door open, revealing a homey room with wooden floors, soft carpets and large, open windows. A long table was situated at the centre of the room, covered with a large variety of food to choose from and, most importantly, his friends surrounding it.

The lively conversation that had previously filled the room ceased to exist as seven pairs of eyes turned to stare at the entrance.

"Hi." Harry said, his smile growing stronger and stronger as, simultaneously, two chairs scraped against the floor. Footsteps echoed in the air and suddenly Harry found his arms full of two small creatures.

"Harry..." Merry began, squeezing the young wizard tightly around his waist.

"You're alive." Pippin finished for his cousin, his head tilting backwards in order to look at Harry with tear stained eyes.

And, as if some sort of secret signal had been given, the two took a few steps back, being replaced by both Gimli and Aragorn.

"You had me scared for a moment there, Harry." Aragorn spoke, staring at Harry in a stern manner as he drew the smaller man into the wide circle of his arms. "I hope you won't put any of us through the same again."

"Of course I will," He joked. "Someone's got to keep you all on your toes, don't you think?"

"Humph," Gimli snorted, grabbing a hold of the young wizard's hand and dragged him down to his level. "Not once did I doubt you; as if some weakling like Saruman could have defeated you, how preposterous."

"I missed you too, my grumpy little dwarf."

"You're not forgetting about us, are you Harry?" A playful voice suddenly spoke, drawing Harry's attention away from his good friend and to his two newest travelling companions.

"I would never!" He exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he hastily returned their shared embrace, lingering for a slight moment before moving away, turning towards the last of his companions, and perhaps the one he had been the most anxious to see.

He had both been nervous and excited to see Legolas after discovering his feelings. He wanted to redeem himself, to make up for the way he had treated the elf when he had revealed his secret to Harry. Not an ounce of dislike had welled up inside of him as Gandalf had called Legolas his mate, and he found that the idea of hugging him, kissing him and loving him was quite appealing.

In a matter of seconds he had crossed the distance between them, throwing himself into the elf's arm before burying his face in the neck of Legolas. With deep breaths, Harry inhaled the blond's scent, imprinting it in his mind as he closed his eyes in pleasure. The elf's hot breath sent a tingle down his neck, and Harry found himself relishing it as Legolas pulled away slightly.

"You silly, _silly_, wizard!" He breathed, a hand reaching up to bury itself in Harry's thick locks before grabbing a hold of the young man's neck. "Don't you ever do something like that again, you understand me?"

"Ok." The raven haired male simply replied.

And then his world was drowned in pleasure as a pair of soft, softer than he could remember, lips connected with his. As an arm snaked around his waist, drawing their bodies tighter together Harry couldn't help but wonder why he had resisted it for so long when it felt so good, so right.

He was in paradise.

* * *

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	20. On The Road Again

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **Some violence and steamy scenes. **  
**

**Disclaimer:**_ Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **Okay so, here you have chapter 20! I really have to thank each and everyone of you who took the time to review, it really was nice to see that the chapter was so appreciated as it was. :D

Anyway, I've already begun writing chapter 21, I have about 200-300 words there, I think. But I find that I don't actually have the time to do anything more on it until Saturday. I have a photoshoot tomorrow, as well as an english book rapport that's to be delivered by midnight, I also have a Norwegian( yes Norwegian is a class here in my country) book rapport that needs to be written, that accompanied by the fact that I need to rehears on my piano, makes my week a very busy one. I hope you all have an understanding for that! ;)

Hope everyone enjoys this new chapter, I have an extra delicious treat for you in there =)

Lisa

* * *

_"Everything that is new or uncommon raises a pleasure in the imagination, because it fills the soul with an agreeable surprise, gratifies its curiosity, and gives it and idea of which it was not before possessed." - Joseph Addison, 1672-1719._

* * *

**Chapter 20:**

**On The Road Again  
**

Sunrays painted the sky in a blood red and orange colour, not a single whiff of cloud could be seen and the wind was at a standstill. Horses were prancing about, grassing on the open fields that surrounded the town while the few people that were up went about their own business without any fuss. It was a breathtaking morning and Harry couldn't have been happier that he had chosen to get up as early as he had in order to take in this beautiful sight. It was a very nice way to begin the day, he mused.

Life had been hectic after that one breakfast where he had been reunited with the Fellowship, and moments like these, where he could just sit back and relaxes and take in his surroundings, hadn't happened often. Every minute of his day was spent in the counsel of Théoden, discussing what their next course of action was to be. The king, it seemed, refused to acknowledge the situation at hand and preferred to live in ignorance. He didn't want to accept the fact that the enemy was right at his doorstep, he didn't want to prepare for battle and truthfully, Harry had begun to tire of trying to convince him of otherwise. There was several times in which the urge to just up and leave the room had nearly taken over, but one warning look from Gandalf always served to keep him in his place.

His relationship with Legolas hadn't gotten much time to grow either, chances to spend some time with each other were always replaced by some sort of chore and when the evening came they, or rather Harry, was so exhausted that he barely managed to get himself to bed before he collapsed in his sleep. Needless to say, the evenings weren't the best of times to go on a romantic stroll or sit and talk.

Wartime, Harry reflected, wasn't the best of times to form a relationship of a romantic nature. He didn't regret his decision though. Every time he saw Legolas warmth blossomed in his chest and confirmed that he had, indeed, made the right choice. The small moments, in which they shared an embrace or even the times when they passed each other in the hallways and a hand would suddenly caress the other were things Harry looked forward to every day, he anticipated and revelled in them, however short they were.

"You're up early." A soft voice suddenly came from behind him, disturbing his thoughts and drawing his attention away from the striking morning sky. "I had the impression that you enjoy sleeping into the day."

"I do, Lady Éowyn," Harry replied, turning around with a smile on his face as he gestured for the lady to join him on the ground. "Though sometimes, I find that a change of routine can be just as refreshing."

"Don't we all." She sighed, gently setting the heavy bucket she had been carrying down on the ground before wiping off her skirts as she seated herself.

Éowyn had, after the funeral of her cousin Theodred, taken to spend her time with the Fellowship and as such had gotten to know Harry. In the beginning she had thought it strange that someone so young could possess such a power as he did, she had readily enough accepted it, but still found it puzzling. Never had she imagined that someone so frail and innocent looking could have experienced the things Harry had and yet there, sitting right beside her, was the evidence that such a thing was, indeed, possible.

"Your uncle is stubborn, too stubborn for his own good." The young wizard spoke, running a hand through his newly washed hair, relishing the fact that the grime that had occupied was no longer.

"He is only doing what he thinks is right for the people." She defended, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her air with a delicate finger. "They have suffered enough; he doesn't want to put them through the horrors that come with war."

"You and I both know that this isn't something he can avoid, the war will come to be and the only thing we can do is prepare ourselves for it. Don't you think your people will suffer less if they are prepared rather than being taken by surprise?" Harry questioned, his green eyes blazing as he stared straight into her eyes.

"Of course I do, but what I think doesn't matter. I am not king, he is." She stated with finality, closing off the topic from any further conversation.

"Hmm." He hummed, turning back to the sky he had been so concentrated on before she had arrived. The red and orange had begun to fade now, leaving behind it a clear blue colour.

"I'll see you at dinner." Harry said as he rose to his feet, leaving now that the morning phenomenon was over.

"Yes, dinner..." Éowyn murmured, so lost in thought that she barely registered him leaving.

With a small wave, one that went unnoticed, Harry walked inside, leaving behind the conversation and the now fading sunrise. He was hungry and his utmost priority was now to get some food into his starving stomach. Nothing would get in his way.

* * *

The day was in full bloom, the sun was shining, the wind was blowing and the streets were filled with people bustling about. Green eyes observed as a small boy, a joyous smile on his face, ran, like only a child could, through the large crowd. It was amazing how the boy managed to weave his way around the many bodies that were in his way, and Harry nearly jumped to his feet when it looked like he would crash into someone. He didn't though, just in time the young child managed to twist his body in a direction that saw to it that he wouldn't hit anyone. It was refreshing, really, to see such a show of agility in someone so young.

Gently, he ran a hand through his hair, untangling the tangles and combing through it like he would have with a comb. The many sounds that filled the air was like a soft melody that longed to lull him to his sleep, they caressed his ears and informed him that things were back to normal, as normal as it could be when the whole town was packing, in the city of Rohan.

"Shouldn't you be packing?" Arms suddenly wrapped around his waist, drawing him back against a firm chest as someone settled down behind him.

"I could ask that of you as well, Legolas." Harry replied, allowing his head to fall back onto the elf's shoulder as his eyes shifted from the streets and up to the skies.

"I was looking for you." Legolas spoke, his grip tightening as he ran his nose up and down Harry's bared throat. "We haven't had any time with each other for weeks now..."

"Hmm." He purred, gathering his fingers together, lightly tapping them on the knee to his right before spreading them and moving them downwards until he cupped the elf's knee. The motion was very much like cracking an egg right before it was to go into the pan.

"This is nice, isn't it? Sitting like this, I mean." Harry said, continuing to stroke Legolas' knee.

"Indeed, It's very pleasant, it truly is a shame that we don't get the time to do this more often." The blond answered, shifting slightly as he moved to shower the young wizard's neck evenly with kisses.

Silence settled between them as they simple sat there, basking in each other's presence. The thought of how he had ever managed to think of this as something bad once again popped into his head. It was incredible that he had thought that something that felt so write was so wrong, the mere idea was preposterous and Harry could honestly say that he was embarrassed of ever having had it.

"You know how dangerous this journey to Helm's Deep will be, don't you?" Harry whispered, getting up on his knees in order to turn around to face the blond.

"I do," He answered, closing his eyes with a sigh as one of Harry's hands came up to stroke his cheek. "I knew it the moment I saw the maps."

"And you can still go through this with good conscience?"

"Good conscience? No, not at all." Slowly he shifted in order to draw his mate onto his lap, his arms circling his back keeping a tight grip on him as he breathed in his scent with one big breath of air. "But it has been decided and as such all we can do is follow through with it and make sure that as little people as possible gets hurt."

"It isn't right though!" Passion shone in green eyes as Harry wrapped his arms around Legolas in return, his fingers lacing together in order to palm the back of the elf's neck.

"Nonetheless, nothing we can do will change the king's mind. Do not trouble yourself with this, Love, if it is meant to happen then it will, no matter how much we try to prevent it." Slender, elegant hands moved to cup Harry's face.

"Let me ease your worries." The elf whispered, moving so his lips hovered over the young wizard's, his warm breath mixing with his mate's as he leaned slightly forward, barely brushing against the one situated in his lap.

"I would love to," Harry said, closing his eyes for a small second before opening them again. "But, as you've already pointed out, I should be in my room, packing."

Swiftly he jumped to his feet and out of reach, a light laugh tumbling across his lips as green eyes sparkled with a mischievous streak. A pink tongue teasingly peeked out of his mouth, wetting his lips with a blank sheen of saliva while a tiny grin spread on his face at the way Legolas' eyes darkened. With a small wave he turned around, heading towards the door with deliberate steps only to be stopped by two arms grabbing a hold of his shoulders, spinning him around and then gently pushing him up against the stone wall.

A quiet gasp escaped him as soft lips connected with his own. Warmth spread through his body as the euphoric feeling that accompanied Legolas' kiss burst forth. It wasn't gentle by any means, sparks flew and the intensity of it only grew as the elf added his tongue in the equation. Tenderly, the wet appendage followed the trail Harry's own tongue had made mere seconds ago, repeating the motion as he desperately sought entrance.

With a quiet groan Harry granted it, opening his mouth slightly only to immediately have his defences breached. Quick as lightning Legolas slipped his tongue inside, tasting, feeling and exploring the cavern of Harry's mouth with relish as he closed his eyes in elation. This was where he belonged, with his mate tucked safely within his embrace while his tongue explored the territory that was his to claim for eternity. He couldn't imagine that anything, other than fully joining with Harry, on earth could feel better than this.

Gasping for breath, Harry pulled back, ignoring the string of saliva that connected their mouths as he leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes in pleasure as Legolas immediately latched onto his neck, trailing light kisses there. Whimpering, the young wizard moved his hands upwards, running them through blond hair as a tongue peeked out to taste his skin.

"W-we really—ah!" Harry began, pausing for a moment to regain his bearings before continuing. "We really should get together more often."

Legolas only grunted.

"I mean, it's only positive for our relationship, right—oh right t-there." His knees buckled, forcing Legolas to keep him standing as the world swam before his eyes. He was dizzy, heady with the many delicious, delightful, _wonderful _feelings that were running through his head and spreading throughout his body. The blood that was steadily flowing south did nothing to help him clear his mind and it only fuelled his desire for more.

"Oh my..." A voice decidedly not Legolas' penetrated his dazed state, making him look up only to be greeted by the unwelcome sight of the fellowship's dwarf.

A threatening growl vibrated from Legolas' chest as the elf moved from his position at Harry's neck to look at the intruder. Blue eyes, darkened by both lust and anger, glared at the red head while he drew himself up to his full height, shielding Harry as much as he could.

"You better have a good reason for coming here, dwarf." Legolas snarled.

"Oh, well...you see..." Gimli stumbled, his eyes wide as he took a step back and away from the furious blond, he had never seen him like this before.

"What was that?" It was a miracle; Harry thought as he straightened himself, that Gimli hadn't peed himself.

"I said that Aragorn wants to see us, all of us."

"It's alright, Gimli," Harry said, peeking out from behind Legolas. "You go ahead and we'll be right behind you."

The dwarf was all too eager to obey, turning around with swift movements Gimli hurriedly moved away from the couple, the discomfited blush that had steadily been sneaking up his neck refused to disappear. Only when the red head was out of sight did Legolas turn back to Harry.

Blue eyes were ablaze with annoyance and, had it been any other than Aragorn who had called for them, Harry was sure that Legolas would have ignored the summons and rather continued on with their previous activities. As it was, neither of them would do so and thusly, they both righted their clothes before following in Gimli's footsteps towards the meeting hall.

* * *

Slow was the only word that could be used when describing their march towards Helm's Deep. The combination of old, sick and young, children that hadn't even learned how to talk yet, people served to make their journey much longer than it had been intended. Harry had spent two days on horseback and still Théoden had esteemed that they had at least two days more left until they reached their destination. His bum ached at the mere notion.

He was restless, anxious to get out of the open and into the safety of Helm's Deep. They were like living targets out on the vast plains of Rohan, there was nothing to cover them ,with the exception of a few rocks here and there and they were not nearly enough to hide the many women and children that were in their company. Harry was worried that, should they be attacked, many lives would be lost that, had they been in an environment that provided enough coverage, could otherwise have been spared. But then again, Harry was taking his sorrows ahead of time, nothing had happened yet and it wasn't even certain that something would. They could be lucky and get through their journey without any hostile encounters.

Nonetheless, Harry made sure to keep his wand in a place he could easily reach. Despite the fact that they hadn't seen any sign of the enemy it still wouldn't do to be careless, in Harry's experience, danger comes when one least expects it to. He had long ago learned not to let his guard down and always be prepared for whatever was thrown in his way. He hadn't survived having a murderer on his back for six years without learning something from it, after all.

"I hate horses." Gimli's deep voice sounded from behind as strong, short arms tightened their grip on Harry's waist. "They're nothing more than beasts that smell and leave their excrement wherever it pleases them."

"In other words, they are little more than dwarves." Legolas happily added to their conversation as he trotted up on their side.

"Oh my..." Gimli said, looking at the young wizard with large eyes. "Did you hear something, Harry? I could have sworn I heard some gigantic, annoying bug buzzing around here."

"You know, if you two are going to swap insults the rest of the day, you might as well just switch horse Gimli, for I have no intention of being a witness to your everlasting pissing contest." Harry casually drawled, producing a mixture of a giggle and a snort from Éowyn.

"You-you'd abandon me to the poisonous clutches of the elf?!" The dwarf burst out in disbelief, dramatically shying away from the elf as his eyes gained a suspicious hue; there was no telling what the blond would do to him as repayment for his interruption the day before yesterday. "He'll tear me apart!"

"Of course I would," The dark haired man said, his eyes filled with mischief. "How else would I get the peace and quiet I've so been longing to have?"

"You traitor, deserter, deceiver," Gimli shouted, one of his arms, he needed the other to keep himself from falling, waving about in the air. "And to think that I trusted you!"

"Come now, Gimli, I would love nothing more than to save you from the big bad elf, but, as it is, I feel that you would have great benefit of facing your fears head on and join Legolas on his horse." A grin stretched onto his face, revealing his white teeth as his green eyes sparkled in a show of light.

"Bu—"

"No buts, Legolas won't do anything, will you, love?" Still keeping a firm grip on his reins Harry made sure that they wouldn't walk into anyone before turning to face his mate.

"If that is what you wish," The elf's teasing smile turned softer around the edges, serving to morph Legolas' features into something more caring and loving. "my mate."

"See there?" The young wizard smiled down at Gimli. "It'll be fine."

And that was how Harry had ended up riding alone while Legolas and Gimli lingered a little at the front of the company, their quarrelling voices easily heard across the distance. Hours had passed and it still didn't seem as if they would be stopping anytime soon, they hadn't had their lunch yet and Harry's stomach was very much looking forward to receiving some food and nutrition.

The enormous head ache that had begun to form throughout the day had lessened somewhat as the lack of a talkative dwarf by his side provided him with the quiet he required. Harry always found that when dealing with a headache the best cure was, simply, silence. And because of the hustle and bustle of the company he hadn't gotten any of that in at least three days.

"Warg riders!" Aragorn shouted, running towards his horse before gracefully climbing on top of it.

Immediately Théoden issued orders, yelling that the women and children were to hurry towards Helm's Deep and that the men were to stay behind and fight the enemy.

With a sharp kick of his feet, Harry urged his horse to move forward, drawing his wand with his right hand. The sound of snarls, growls and swords clashing with swords filled his ears as he arrived upon the scene.

Large creatures that looked like mutated wolves carried orc riders that were swinging their swords, spears and axes around with no restraints as they, with loud shrieks, launched themselves at the men that had come to fight them. They showed no mercy as they fought, and even before Harry had had the time to engage one of them in battle, at least two of Théoden's men were on the ground, dead and lying in a pool of their own blood.

Orange flames filled his hands, forming fiery spheres that he, without any hesitation whatsoever, threw into the air and towards an orc headed his way. The excruciated cry that followed sent a wave of approval through him and seeing the orc fall to the grown in a heap of burnt flesh served to morph that approval into satisfaction. He didn't have much time to linger on that feeling though, for not a second after he had thrown the fire ball an orc, having realized the danger he posed, threw itself at him.

A sharp inhale of air and drawing his sword was the only things Harry had the time to do before his opponent, accompanied by the warg he rode, launched himself at Harry and his horse. His whole world focused in on the one he was fighting, parrying every move the orc decided to throw at him at the same time as he manoeuvred his horse in a way that would it from being devoured by the wolf-like creature's vicious jaws.

With a sharp thrusting motion of his hand, Harry's sword was suddenly buried, to the hilt, inside the orc's chest. Black blood flooded forth as Harry twisted his weapon before drawing it out with a jerky movement. He didn't spare his fallen opponent a single look as he turned to fight the warg that was still growling at him. Large claws swiped at him, nearly cutting through the skin and muscle in his right arm as the beast immediately jumped forward, snapping its jaws as Harry barely avoided it.

A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, gracing the outer edge of his eyes before rolling down his chin and disappearing under his clothes. His body was in constant movement, jumping back and forth in order to avoid being crushed by those intimidating teeth. Breathing out, Harry could feel the warm, calming sensation of flames filling and surrounding his hands again. They flared, reacting to the adrenaline that was flowing through Harry's veins as they grew bigger and bigger. The young wizard's eyes glowed in an unnatural way as his hair whipped about him. He would have made a terrifying, yet magnificent sight to any of those who were watching him.

The scent of singed hair filled the air and travelled up his nose at the same time as a pained howl erupted from the creature before him. With a start Harry realized that, without him meaning them to, the flames had moved forward, taking a hold of the wolf before slamming it down to the ground. The whole body was in flames and Harry could feel the heat increasing with every second, after a minute the wolf's pained whimpers ceased and all that was left was a lifeless, charred body.

He still didn't have complete control, Harry recognized, looking at the now dimmer flames in his hands. And understood, now, what Regulus had meant when he had said that the flame element was one of the hardest to control. It had a will of its own, one that Harry still hadn't mastered. Still, it wouldn't hurt him, the flames had recognized that he was fit to wield them and despite the fact that they had acted out on their own, Harry was sure that he would forever be safe from its wrath.

Something large suddenly zoomed past him, sending a gust of wind straight in his face as he caught a glimpse of Aragorn hanging onto a wolf. The orc that had previously been seated upon the monster was nowhere to be seen and, with horror, Harry suddenly realized that they were headed straight for the cliff.

A choked cry escaped him as he hurried after them, his legs carrying him as fast as they could until he finally caught up with them and threw himself onto the wolf. The saddle's rough leather scratched his skin, sending a small stinging pain through him as he took in the situation. Aragorn's arm was firmly entangled in the reins, making it impossible for the man to tear himself loose.

"Need some help?" Harry breathlessly questioned as he immediately tried to untangle the man's hands from the coarse reins.

"It would be very much appreciated, yes." Aragorn replied, gritting his teeth as the leather dug into his skin and his feet were roughly dragged across the ground.

The looming threat of the cliff edge did nothing to help him as he fumbled with the knots. Tugging and tearing nothing he did would loosen it and Harry found himself, despite the risk of cutting into his companion's skin, forced to draw his sword and began using it as a knife. It did no good.

"This isn't working." Harry said, his voice rising slightly as frustration coloured his face.

"Use your flames, I can take it."

"You sure?" The young wizard questioned, his green eyes darting from the man's pained face to the cliff only a few meters away. "I won't be able to keep it from burning you."

"Just do it!" The tenseness in his face and the slight fear that shone in his, informed Harry that Aragorn had no wish of dying. And so he summoned his flames again and concentrated on task of burning the reins at the same time as limiting the damage done to his friend.

He winced at the muffled cry coming from Aragorn, regretting the fact that he still didn't have the control needed to regulate his flames in a situation like this. Slowly, too slowly, he watched as the leather disintegrated, growing thinner and thinner. His attention was diverted, however, as the sickening feeling of being suspended in the air with no ground beneath him filled his stomach.

A hoarse scream, accompanied by that of Aragorn and the warg, escaped him and vaguely he recognized the sound of leather snapping. He had been too late, and for the second time during his stay in middle-earth, he found himself falling to his certain death.

He closed his eyes.

* * *

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	21. Travel, Magic And Marcus

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **A little blood and gore, not too much to worry about**  
**

**Disclaimer:**

**A/N:** Oh the winter has been tough this year, I mean, its been at least -25 degrees celcius here and the snow has just piled up, I can't tell you how ecstatic I am now that I can actually see the asphalt on the sidewalk, it's a sign that spring is finally headed our way! :D

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Lisa

* * *

His hoarse voice rang through the air as a resonating scream forced its way out of his throat. The overwhelming urge to grab onto something in order to stop his descent bubbled right under the surface. He didn't allow it to take over though; the chance of losing a hand was too great for him to risk it. He was immensely aware of the raging water that was beneath him, the prospect of fighting the waves and the current with just one arm was far from tempting. He needed all the strength he could muster to keep both himself and Aragorn, having fainted from the pain of both Harry's flame and strain his body had been through, from drowning.

His breath was knocked out of him as he harshly connected with the water's surface. The flames, which had come to surround his whole body during the fall, were extinguished the moment the water surrounded him. Green eyes shot open, taking in the blurry world before him. Hurriedly he latched onto Aragorn and, with an amazing show of strength, pushed them both to the surface.

His lungs burned, his breath was lost, his feet kicked frantically to keep them afloat. They were mercilessly dragged down the stream. Waves descended upon them, pushing them down under the water as they were violently thrown in every direction. The river was unruly, unconquerable and determined to drown them.

He had no idea, no grasp of how long they had been in the water, an hour, maybe two. He couldn't be sure. All he knew was that the massive powers that the river displayed were slowly draining him of all his strength. He didn't know how long he would able to keep both himself and Aragorn from drowning. He feared that if they didn't reach land anytime soon, then they would both succumb to the harshness of the water.

Blindly, he reached out for something, anything that would keep them from drifting further down the river. The waves had grown in size and strength, making it near impossible for him to see anything as they always washed over him when he tried to open his eyes. His muscles were screaming, flexing and trembling with the effort it took for him to keep a hold of Aragorn. His feet were starting to grow numb, chilled by the icy cold waters. It felt as if he was treading water with large stony lumps instead of the soft muscles and tissue his feet, in reality, were made out of.

It was no longer a question of _if _his legs would cease to work, but _when_. It could be no clearer to Harry, when taking into account the cold water, strong current and his steadily weakening limbs, that death was looming over him, ready to snatch him up the moment he stopped breathing. There would be no mercy to be found; only the darkness and loneliness that he had always imagined would accompany death.

Something hard grazed his cheek, scraping the skin there so hard that blood rose to the surface. Numbly, he stared at the stony ground, heaving for breath and not quite registering that they were safe. There was no strength left in him. He had given it all up in fighting the waves and current from dragging them down into the haunting darkness of the river.

A cough from his left brought him out of his stupor. Green eyes shifted to take in Aragorn's drenched form, watching as the man rolled onto his stomach, his body wracked with a violent coughing fit. Groaning, Harry pushed himself onto all four, crawling towards his friend on shaky limbs. The adrenaline that had been running through his veins for the better part of an hour, maybe longer, had just now been flushed out and Harry could clearly feel the results of it. He was trembling, his muscles were shaking with the effort it took to keep him upright and, had he had any choice in the matter, he would have preferred to just lie down and go to sleep, to rest for a moment. He didn't have the time for that though, he needed to make sure that Aragorn was fine and then they needed to get going, they didn't have any time to waste.

"Aragorn," He said his voice cracked and hoarse from all the screaming. "Are you alright?"

"I'm getting there." The man groaned, shifting to lie on his back as he turned to look into Harry's eyes. "They'll be furious, won't they?"

"Absolutely livid." The young man agreed, running a hand through his hair while gently squeezing the water out of it. "They won't let us out of their sight for at least two weeks, I can imagine."

"Weeks? Perhaps for me, yes, but Legolas is a rather possessive person, Harry, you won't be allowed on your own for months and even then he'll be watching you from the shadows." There was an absolute truth to Aragorn's words that compelled Harry to believe them.

He was well aware that Legolas was a rather possessive and, dare he say it, jealous male, the way he reacted when someone even dared to look at Harry in an appreciative manner only confirmed that. And, based on these experiences, Harry came to the conclusion that Aragorn's words were true and that it was very likely that, the moment he had fallen off that cliff, he had earned himself an overprotective shadow.

"I'm doomed, aren't I?" Harry sighed.

"Now, I wouldn't say that, Harry," Aragorn replied, sending a boyish grin his way. "You're destined to have an overprotective elf watching your every steps and chasing away anyone that can be considered as overly friendly, yes, but doomed? Don't exaggerate Harry."

"Oh shut it, I'm doomed and we both know it." The young wizard deadpanned, unsteadily rising to his feet.

The sound of hooves clicking against the ground suddenly reached them, drawing their attention away from the conversation. A brown horse, suspiciously familiar, was trotting towards them, its mane dancing in the air.

"You have an incredibly intelligent horse, Aragorn."

"Indeed."

* * *

He was numb, bordering on cold, from the inside out. Tears filled his eyes as he stood beside Legolas, watching as the elf's blood rushed from his face and the glow, that surrounded all elves, seemed to vanish right in front of him. His grandfather, Gróin son of Farin, had told him stories of what happened to elves that lost their mate. They would wither, he had said, inconsolable and consumed by their sorrow they would slowly lose their mind until nothing was left but an empty shell. They died, following their mate into the afterlife and there was no medicine or magic that could keep this from happening.

"They were delectable, the screams of your wizard." The orc rasped, black blood flooding from his mouth as his yellow, rotten teeth was bared in a malicious grin. "It's a shame that I couldn't force more out of him. I would have loved to have a go at him, in more ways than one, if you catch my drift."

Gimli did nothing but watch as Legolas drew his long blade, stabbing it right into the disgusting creature's vulnerable belly before twisting it around. He had never imagined that he would see Legolas, one the most friendly and non-violent beings he had ever met, performing such a cruel and malevolent task as this. He did not blame him, however, for he would have done the exact same thing himself if it hadn't been for the fact that Legolas had gotten there before him.

The perverted leer that had occupied the orc's ugly face was forced away in order to make way for the pained grimace that followed the harsh stabbing. A shriek, so loud that it hurt his ears, filled the air as the creature writhed and clawed at the ground, blood spurting in every direction as the twisting of the knife continued. Legolas was unrelenting and didn't stop until the orc fell to the ground, motionless and dead and even then he kicked the orc right in the face as he got to his feet.

If he had thought the orc to be ugly before, it was downright nasty after the elf was done with it. Black blood coated its whole body, its nose, which had admittedly been very crooked and disfigured to begin with, was an unrecognizable mess and Gimli was sure that, had it been alive, the pain would have been so great that it would have been unconscious within seconds. Its armour covered foot, the right one, was twisted in such an angle so unnatural that no one could be in doubt of the fact that it was broken.

A sense of satisfaction rose within him as he took it all in. The broken, beaten and dead body. There was no doubt in his mind that the repulsive creature deserved it, no doubt at all. The immoral things it had insinuated, the fact that it had dared to sully Harry by even speaking of doing such revolting acts to him all led Gimli to believe that no one would mourn the loss of this horrible being, not even its comrades or master.

The orc was, however, the least of his concerns now; his top priority was now to shake Legolas out of his grief long enough for him to get the elf onto a horse. They had to get going; they didn't have the luxury of lingering in order to search for their two comrades. The women, children and old people that had been sent towards Helm's Deep in advance had to be caught up with, only when they had reached the stronghold could Legolas and Gimli even think of looking for their lost friends. The possibility of them being dead never entered his mind as he had great faith in them both, he was sure that a mere fall from a cliff couldn't possibly be enough to kill them.

With that in mind, the dwarf walked towards the cliff and the kneeling Legolas. A strong, calloused hand settled on the elf's shoulder, offering comfort while at the same time serving to drag the male's attention away from the dark waters and onto Gimli.

"You shouldn't listen to the foul lies spouted by that fiend," He said, hesitantly smiling at the pale man. "Harry and Aragorn are both alive; you and I both know that none of them could ever be defeated by a measly orc."

"Then why can't I feel him?" Legolas' hollow voice flowed into his ears. "Why can't I sense his presence?"

"I don't know, you couldn't feel him when he was with the blue wizard, perhaps this is just like that time." Gimli gruffly replied.

"It isn't, this time it's different. Our bond wasn't as strong when he was with Alantar, but he's accepted it now, it's stronger and I should be able to feel him no matter how far away he is." It was quite clear, by the whitening knuckles, that the elf was barely restraining himself from punching something.

"Harry's fine, you'll see." The dwarf insisted. "Now come along, they're all waiting for us, and I'm sure neither Harry nor Aragorn would be happy if we abandon them now that we're so close to reaching our destination."

"No, I daresay they would not." Legolas gently replied, a small smile lingering on his face at the thought of his mate's temper.

* * *

He was tired, oh so tired. His stomach was screaming for food, his muscles, particularly his abs, were longing for reprieve and he could barely keep himself and Aragorn on top of Brego without falling. They had been riding for a whole day now and it still didn't seem as if they had gotten anywhere. The scenery hadn't changed and all Harry could see were the rocks and vast country that he had come to think of as familiar when in the land of Rohan.

A bead of sweat ran down his face, evidence of the effort it took for him to keep Aragorn upright. The man had been unconscious for some time now, the wound on his right shoulder having taken its toll on him. It was difficult, to say the least, to manoeuvre the horse with a man larger and taller than his small frame sitting in front of him, his ability to see what was before them was greatly reduced and he found that Aragorn's body was getting heavier and heavier.

"Shit, you're bloody heavy." Harry grunted as he shifted slightly, reaching down with one hand to rub some feeling into his feet again.

The urge to just stop the horse, get down from it and flop down on the ground in a boneless heap was tempting, incredibly so, but it was not an option. They needed to reach Helm's Deep before nightfall, before Aragorn gave in to the blood loss. The wound, which had seemed so innocent when they had first began their trek, had turned out to be a curse in disguise, it had steadily weakened the otherwise strong man and, mere hours before, it had become clear that if they didn't get a doctor to tend to it soon it would become infected. An infection was, understandably, their worst nightmare. It could easily become the bane of Aragorn and if the man died, well... the future didn't look so bright when taking that into account.

Grimacing, he shifted his grip on Aragorn, squeezing him tighter around the waist before pushing himself close up against his back, had Legolas been there to witness their position, their bodies pressed tightly up against each other while leaving no room for anything else between them, Harry imagined that he would have been torn away from the other in a matter of seconds. The man sagged a little, falling slightly forward so his head rested against the horse's neck. A soft snort from Brego could be heard, making it perfectly clear to Harry that he wasn't the only one that was struggling. The combined weight of both him and Aragorn couldn't have been easy for the horse to carry, that accompanied by the fact that Brego had been walking non-stop since that morning made it perfectly reasonable that the steed was just as tired, perhaps more so, as the two humans on top of it.

"Easy, Brego, we'll be there soon." A cold hand rose to soothingly pat the side of the brown horse's neck. "I'm sure there's a warm booth, filled with hay and all the treats you could imagine waiting just for you somewhere in Helm's Deep, all you need to do is hang on a little longer."

Harry had discovered that, in times when he had no others to speak with, it was strangely comforting to talk to a horse like this. A sense of companionship, which could only come from being around animals, filled him, washing away any negative feelings he might have harboured. It didn't last for long though as in mere seconds later a quiet rumbling sound flowed into his ears.

Jerkily, he snapped his head to the side, green eyes frantically searching for the source of the noise. His face, which had been flushed with exertion, paled rapidly, the blood rushing unnaturally fast from his head. A large black mass, tramping intact, was headed straight towards them, looking just as menacing and dangerous as Harry believed them to be. A whole army of orcs and uruk-hai, not even Aragorn and Harry's combined efforts, however great they were, could compare to that.

"I think," He whispered into a pointy, furry ear. "That we need to get our arses in gear, my friend."

And in reply the strong horse started into a gallop, its fur shining with sweat while its nostrils widened and shrunk with Brego's heavy breath. Harry could feel the powerful muscles flexing underneath him as he pressed himself and Aragorn down, his thighs tightened their grip on the horse's body in order to accommodate for the rest of the ride. It would be wise to provide as little wind resistance as possible, anything that could ease Brego's road needed to be done.

"That's a good boy." He whispered over the wind, a small smile crossing his lips at the thrill of travelling at such a speed.

Quickly, Harry turned to look behind them, watching to see if they had been spotted. The massive army was marching on as if nothing was out of the ordinary and he released a relived sigh as he saw that, even though they were in plain sight, no one had seen them. Or at least, it didn't seem that way to Harry, surely, if the orcs had noticed them, then arrows would have been raining down upon them mere seconds after.

Assured that the enemy behind them would pose as no threat, Harry turned around again, focusing on the path before him. The need to get to Helm's Deep was even greater now, he had to inform them of the danger that was headed straight for them. It would be disaster if they didn't get there in time.

For hours on hours they rode at full speed, only stopping for quick breaks so that Brego could get some water and, if time allowed it, food into his body. It was positively exhausting, both for the horse and the riders, especially Harry. Aragorn had yet to wake up and so the fact that Harry had to take care of himself as well as a man that was nearly twice his size served to drain his energy much more quickly than it would have had it been him alone. And that, accompanied by the ever looming danger of being caught up with by the army of orcs, goblins and Uruk-Hais, forced a relieved sigh out of him as the stronghold came within sight.

Never before, Harry mused, had a large fortress etched out from the mountain looked as inviting and promising as it did in that very moment. The cold stone walls were just as beckoning as the soft sheets that had been on his bed at Hogwarts, the heavily armoured guards that were patrolling the gate weren't at all intimidating in Harry's eyes, in fact, they looked like large teddy bears to him. The urge to leap at them and embrace them, however silly it was, flooded through him as his eyes burned with elated tears.

"You did well, Harry." Aragorn's hoarse voice reached his ears, urging him to look down upon the man he had been holding for so long.

The ranger's countenance was as pale as ever, but there was a small sparkle within his eyes that told Harry that the danger of him dying had passed. Dirt and dust covered the man's face, making him seem more like a filthy commoner than the royal descendant that he was.

"You had me scared for a while, Aragorn," A small smile fluttered across his face as he gently tapped his legs against Brego's side, tightening his grip on the reigns as the horse fell into a soft trot. "For a moment there I was beginning to doubt you would ever wake up."

"I would never leave this world, Harry," He replied, straightening a little in order to take in his surroundings. "Not when I still have things to do here."

"Hmm." The young wizard hummed in reply, watching as the fortress' great walls loomed over them and the guards finally took notice of the two.

The gate opened with a loud creak, swinging inwards in order to give them entrance. Men, heavily armoured, were bustling around, hurriedly moving here and there in order to complete whatever task they had been set to. They looked tired, all of them, as if they hadn't seen a goodnight's sleep in days. And, Harry realized, they probably hadn't, in times such as this sleep was a luxury, one that most people couldn't afford much of. Not even children, he thought as he watched a young boy, no older than ten, carry a heavy bucket, filled to the brim with water, across what Harry assumed to be the courtyard. The child's light brown hair was plastered to his forehead, drenched in the sweat caused by his exercise, his skin, tanned by years of playing outside, was flushed an impressive red as the boy huffed and puffed, trying his best to keep his breath steady. It wasn't until the lad had turned the corner, disappearing from view that Harry looked away from him, though he still lingered for a moment, trying to catch sight of him once again to see if he would succeed in bringing all of the water to his destination.

A white marble wall blocked his vision.

He didn't know if it was an impulse of the moment or if it had to with the fact that the child reminded him strangely of himself at that age, but without thinking Harry jumped down from the horse, patting Aragorn on the leg before absently saying. "You go ahead; I have something I need to do."

He didn't wait for Aragorn to reply, instead he ran after the brunette, dodging the men that were in his way. It was clear that the boy was practically exhausted. The way he stumbled and paused every minute to adjust his grip on the bucket, his breath coming out in gasps made it all painfully obvious that the task he had been set with was too much for him. Memories of Harry's time spent with the Dursleys came to mind, and though the child looked well fed, clothed and healthy a twinge of pity welled up inside of the young wizard.

"Do you need some help with that?" He asked, making sure that his voice was soft before placing his hand on the boy's small shoulder. "It looks heavy."

Grey eyes widened as the young boy spun around, splashing water on the ground in his surprise as he took in the unusual sight that was before him. A small flash of amusement shone in Harry's green eyes as he watched as the child's expression turned from surprise to awe before settling on suspicion and indignation.

"I'm not weak, if that's what you're saying." He huffed, lifting the bucket from the ground and holding it steady as if wanting to prove what he had just said.

"I'm not," Harry assured, smiling at him as they fell into step with each other, taking their time. "I'm just displaying common courtesy."

"I'm Harry, by the way." He added as he drew his wand.

"I know." The young boy blurted out, looking at him from the corner of his eye. "I-I mean...I've seen you around before, with those elves."

"Ah, they're a hard lot not to notice, aren't they?" With a small movement of his hand, he cast a lightening charm on the bucket grinning at the astonished expression that erupted on the lad's face.

"How did you do that?!" He cried, experimentally lifting the bucket up and down, beaming as the weight stayed nearly non-existent.

"Magic." Harry answered, slipping his wand back into his pocket before turning back to his newfound companion. "Now if you wouldn't mind I would very much like to know your name."

"Dad says I'm not allowed to give out my name to strangers, says it's dangerous."

"He's right in that, but you know, because we've been talking for over five minutes I would say that we aren't strangers anymore, more like acquaintances."

"Really?" Excitement tinged the boy's voice. "Well then, I'm Marcus."

They stopped before a pool of water, Harry watching as Marcus emptied the bucket into it. It became obvious to him then that Marcus must have been doing this the whole day, filling a pool of such a size was no mean feat, especially for a child of his age.

"It's nice to meet you then Marcus." He said, following the boy as he turned to retrace his steps.

"You know, I've never met a wizard before," The brunette began, playfully swinging the bucket back and forth as he skipped from one foot to the other. "My mum used to tell me stories about them; I've always imagined them to be old though."

"They are, I'm just the exception." Harry replied.

"I think a young wizard is much better than an old one." Marcus reassured him, grabbing a hold of Harry's hand so he could swing that back and forth as well. "Much more fun."

"You think so?"

"Mhm, old people are always so boring, they never have much time for us kids."

"That's not true; they just have a lot on their minds, that's all."

"Then my dad has to have very much to think about."

He wasn't given much time to think about the young man's words, however, as Marcus suddenly threw a question into the air.

"Harry, would you mind terribly to go back to the well with me and do more of that magic thingy on the bucket? That way I'll be done sooner."

"Sure."

* * *

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	22. A Storm Is Coming

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
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**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
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**Warning: **Nothing but the ridiculous cuteness of Marcus. :P**  
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**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

**A/N: **I have to say that I've been watching many inspiring things lately. There's this tv-show here in Norway that's called Ingen Grenser, Ingen grenser means no limits. It revolves around elleven functionally disabled people that walks 500km from Luleå in Sweden, over the border and into Norway. It's incredible really since some of them are missing a leg, others an arm and there's even two in wheelchair, it's not a simple task, even for those of us that have everything intact. The last program was last sunday and they made it, it was so nice to see. So to all the people out there who is functionally disabled, anything is possible so long as you're determined to do it!

I've also seen the movie my sister's keeper, I have to admit that there were several times when a few tears escaped me. It's such a beautiful, yet sad movie and I recommend it to all of you who don't mind sitting with a handkerchief and wiping away your tears.

Okay, so back to the story, there isn't much action going on in this one, but nonetheless it's an important part to the story and there are hinted to some things that will be happening in the future, maybe even the near future. I have a question to all of you who use open office and have used it for a while, you see my computer crashed and my dad did something to get it back on its feet again, sadly that left me without word office, and so now I'm using open office, but back to the question, on word there was this synonym thing that you could use that showed synonyms for a word, is there one on Open office*? I've tried finding it but, obviously, I'vecome up empty handed.

Hope everyone enjoys!

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_"Forgiveness is the answer to the child's dream of a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again, what is soiled is made clean again." - Dag Hammarskjold, 1905-1961._

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**Chapter 22:**

**A Storm Is Coming**

"You know, you didn't have to stand there and watch while I finished with him, I would have been more than happy had you chosen to join us." Harry said, waving goodbye to Marcus as the boy ran in the direction Harry guessed his father to be in.

"I'm afraid that should I have approached you, your new friend would have witnessed something not appropriate for children." Legolas retorted, walking forward and sliding his arms around Harry before drawing his mate up against his chest. His blue eyes closed in delight as his nose traced the young wizard's neck; inhaling the delicious scent that he had associated with Harry from the moment he had met him. It was something undeniably Harry.

"You couldn't have come to tell me you were alive and well before you went off on your little rescue mission?" The elf rasped, his voice deep and hoarse as his lips lightly connected with warm skin, his tongue pleading to come out and taste. No doubt it would be more delicious than anything else he had ever tasted; he had a hunch that he would never get enough of it.

"Of course not," He whispered, eyes fluttering close in a show of enjoyment. "Who else, if not I, would dare to keep you on your feet? It's good for you."

Abruptly, the warm arms that had surrounded him disappeared, taking with them the warmth that had comforted him so. Immediately, Harry spun around, facing Legolas as he watched as the elf visibly struggled to keep his temper in check.

"Not when it comes to your well-being," The blond stated, his blue eyes shining fiercely as his passion were shown through them. "I couldn't bear losing you and even the slightest thought of something bad happening to you sends anguish right through my very soul. Your life is not something I take for granted."

"And neither do I," Harry murmured, reaching up and cupping Legolas' face, his thumbs stroking a small circular pattern right under his eyes. "I won't leave you, Legolas; you don't have to worry so much."

"It's only natural that I worry for you. You are my mate, Harry, there is _no_ other in this world for me, and if I lose you then I lose myself." He sighed, warm breath washing over Harry's soft skin. "You can't possibly believe that I'll be able to live on without you, do you? I love you; you're my life, my heart, my soul and my entire being. How many times do I have to repeat that for you to understand it? This isn't some game I'm playing, it's real."

"I know that."

"I don't think you do, I don't think you understand how serious this, our relationship, actually is. Had Gimli not been holding me back and if Aragorn hadn't managed to tell me where you were as quickly as he did, I would have killed him, I would have killed him for dragging you down with him in that river and it wouldn't have mattered to me that it wasn't even his fault." The elf whispered in a heated voice, his arms slipping around Harry as he caged him within his embrace.

The urge to step forward, lean against Legolas' chest and bury his face in the crook of his neck to inhale the elf's musky scent was strong. He wanted so bad to take comfort of, after having travelled and been away from him for two days, being in his arms once again. He couldn't though; for once Legolas was the one who needed comfort, who needed to be reassured by Harry. He was ashamed to admit that during the short period after he had accepted Legolas as his mate he had greedily received any affection given to him, he had always been the one comforted while the blond was comforter. It was time, he decided as he gently eased his arms around the elf's shoulders, that he stepped forward and took a part in the relationship. From now on they were to be equals. When given affection Harry would give back.

His whole countenance softened as he drew their bodies close together, one hand lightly running up and down Legolas' back, making invisible patterns there as his other hand, the right one, moved the elf's blond hair over to one side before gently kneading and rubbing at the back of his mate's muscled neck. Shifting to stand on his toes he pressed his lips against the sensitive patch of skin he knew to be right under Legolas' left ear, making a trail of soft kisses down from there.

Rough hands, larger than his own and riddled with lines and calloused from years of archery and swordplay settled at the small of his back, pressing their hips and crotches together. An electric current swept through his body, forcing a soft sigh out of his throat and into the air.

His breath quickened. "Next time I'll come to you first."

"There won't be a next time." The warm hands moved, travelling down until they settled on his cheeks, exploring them as they moved to a more private place. Not an easy task with an eager wizard latched onto your throat.

"Oh?" Harry questioned, his tongue sneaking across his lips and lightly pressing against Legolas' skin, the explosion of flavours on his taste buds called forth a quiet groan.

"From now on you won't be leaving my sight." He said and with a great show of will strength took a step out of Harry's arms, making sure to keep him at an arm's length distance. "The only time you will be allowed on your own is when you need to relieve yourself, and even then you'll have to tell either me, Gimli or Aragorn of your whereabouts; you'll be eating, sleeping and spending your every moment in my presence."

The elf's words were like a cold shower to Harry. Any thoughts he may have harboured of him and Legolas going any further, vanished along with every single trace of desire that had had his body so flushed. "So in other words you'll be treating me like some petulant child?!"

Outrage was written all over his face and the idea of comforting Legolas was abruptly washed away. He had, of course, expected something like this to happen, but to such a degree? No, he wouldn't agree to it. Staying with Legolas he could handle, yes, but having to go through the humiliation of alerting his friends to when he needed to go to the bathroom and which toilet he would be using? Impossible, it was completely unacceptable. His pride couldn't take it.

"I refuse." He growled, moving closer to Legolas in two intimidating steps. "I will not be put through the embarrassment of being escorted to the bathroom! I'm seventeen years old for Merlin's sake! I am capable of going to the loo by myself!"

It was astonishing how quickly the atmosphere had turned, going from relaxed and loving to tense and angry. Harry's green eyes were practically spitting with anger as they drilled into Legolas. His hands were clenched into tight fists, the knuckles growing white as he shook. The continuous silence from the elf only served to make his blood boil; it was as if Legolas had deemed Harry's words and opinion unimportant. As if Harry himself was unimportant.

His temper rose and his knuckles turned white as he clenched his hand into a tight fist. "Do you have any idea how much I've sacrificed for you?!" Harry burst out, all too aware of the blue hue that surrounded his fist, his flames were right under the surface. "Have you even considered that just by being here, just by saying that I'm willing to be with you I'm abandoning my family, my friends?! I'm giving up everything to be here in this world, with you, and all you do is act as if I'm no more than a possession. I didn't come here to be treated like an inanimate thing! Believe it or not, I'm a living being, I have thoughts and feelings!"

He drew a deep breath, glaring at Legolas with tears clouding his sight. " You should be aware of how much I've sacrificed and how ridiculously little you have, Legolas. You have no right, _no right_, to act as if you're so much better than me upon that golden pedestal of yours."

He didn't wait for a potential reply, instead he walked away, moving in the direction he could hear Gimli, Aragorn, Calanon and Alanon's voices coming from. He didn't have the energy to deal with Legolas and his possessive streak at the moment, no, he would much rather have a nice warm bath before collapsing in a soft, fluffy bed. Of course, that wasn't possible as he still had to inform Théoden of the rapidly approaching army.

Life, he reflected, was much too eventful.

* * *

Harry was completely and utterly exhausted. His limbs were heavy, his mind a chaos of thoughts and he could feel a major headache drawing nearer. His conversation with Théoden had lasted much longer than he had expected. The king had wanted every single detail that the young wizard could supply him with, how many were they, were they orcs, goblins or Uruk-Hai, what type of weapons did they possess and, finally how long did he think it would take them before they reached Helm's Deep.

It was late. His friends with the exception of Aragorn and Legolas had already gone to bed, probably sleeping soundly. Soon, he thought, he would be joining them; diving right under his blankets and falling asleep the moment his head connected with what probably would be the soft texture of his pillow. The idea was positively drool worthy.

"How did it go?" Aragorn broke the silence. "You seeing Legolas again, I mean."

"Disastrous." Harry sighed, running a lax hand through his unruly black hair as he deliberately kept quiet about the last part of their heated conversation. "He wants to know where I am at all times, even when I go to the bathroom."

"Ah, I'm not surprised. I suspected this of happening the moment I told him of your whereabouts." The ragged looking man replied. "He was far from happy, I can tell you that."

"That doesn't give him the right to control me in such a way, though." Harry heatedly answered, looking at his friend from the corner of his eye.

"No it doesn't, but look at it from Legolas' point of view. He's terrified of losing you and in his mind this is the only thing he can do to keep something from happening to you. He isn't being mean, he's just worried." Grey eyes turned to observe him, the small upturn of his lips made his amusement clear. "Granted, his idea wasn't the best solution, but it's his way of handling it."

"A bloody stupid way if you ask me." The wizard grumbled, shoving his hands into his pocket.

"It's ironic really, elves are one of the smartest people in this world, yet when it comes to their mate they are just as clueless as the rest of us." Aragorn pleasantly commented.

"You almost sound as if you're amused, my friend," Harry said, glaring suspiciously at the larger man. "You aren't having fun at my expense are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Well then, have a goodnight, Aragorn, I'll see you tomorrow."

The man only waved in reply as he disappeared around the corner, having agreed to keep a watch out for the enemy during the night. The silent corridor was strangely relaxing as he made his way through the darkness towards the rooms he shared with the rest of the Fellowship. Ever since he had set foot inside the gates of Helm's Deep he had been surrounded by nothing but noise. Granted, Marcus had been a welcomed noise but noise nonetheless. And so it was nice to, after having been through a more than hectic day, finally be able to relax and take in the silence.

His footsteps echoed off the walls, travelling back and forth in the hallway. Turning the corner he reached a wooden door, tiredly he grabbed a hold of the handle, pulling the door towards him before stepping inside and closing it. Loud snores, undoubtedly from Gimli, immediately greeted him. A sense of familiarity washed through him and his features, which had been stiff from the time spent discussing with Théoden, softened. His bed, which he was sure would feel as soft as it looked, was situated at the far end of the room with a window to the right and, what he believed to be Legolas', a bed on the left. Pillows in earthy colours were fluffed and placed in a strategic manner, lying in such a way so as to be as comfortable as they had been created to be. He couldn't wait to drop down on them in an undignified heap.

Quietly, so as not to disturb the people that were sleeping, he stripped himself. Unbuttoning his shirt before letting it slide down from his shoulder in a caress of silky soft fabrics. Goose bumps burst forth on his skin, his nipples hardened and the hair on his arms rose, a testimony of the coolness of the room. The sound of cloth hitting the floor signalled that he had taken off his pants and so, half naked with only his underwear to cover himself, he jumped to bed, covered himself with the sheets and rested his head on the pillow.

"You're cross with me." Legolas whispered, shifting around so he lay, on his side, facing Harry.

"Congratulations Sherlock I'm cross with you, however did you figure that out almighty detective?." Harry bit back, his words laced with sarcasm.

"Why?" The elf shot back, stretching out while resting his head on the palm of his head as he ignored the biting tone coming from his mate.

"I would have thought that to be obvious." Harry spat, his green eyes deepening in colour as he glared at the one in front of him.

"I'm only doing it to protect you." Gracefully the blond climbed out of his bed and approached the young wizard, gently nudging him to make room for one more in the bed.

He refused to budge, only giving in when it looked like the elf was about to forcefully move him. "You're taking it too far, it's not necessary to be that drastic. The enemy isn't even upon us yet and you're already trying to cage me into something you believe to be protective."

He stiffened, Legolas' body having made the mattress dip, muscles working to keep him from rolling towards and into the elf. He couldn't afford any skin to skin contact at the moment, if he did then he was sure he would be lost to the blond's warm, wonderfully alluring touch.

A calloused hand settled on his hip, caressing it and sending waves upon waves of delight shivers through him. He melted on the spot. "I never had the intention of upsetting you...but you're so damned difficult to protect that it's impossible not to go to the extremes. All I want is for you to be happy and safe, this is the only way I could think of to achieve that."

"Yet I'm not happy, am I?" Harry questioned, going against his earlier thoughts of staying away from Legolas' touch in order to interlace his fingers with that of the elf. "I can handle the first part of your demands, staying in your presence, I admit, is a reasonable request. But I would very much like to be able to go to the toilet by myself, I think even you can accept that as fair."

"Alright," Legolas replied, tightening his grip on the young wizard before drawing him up against him. "I'll agree to that, so long as you stay in the same room as me at all times."

"Deal." Harry whispered, pressing a quick peck against the slightly chapped lips in front of him before resting his head on the built chest that was so obviously offered to him as a pillow for the night. "Now go to sleep, you look like hell."

Somehow it bothered him that Legolas hadn't mentioned his passionate speech.

* * *

The days after they had settled things between them had been happy, busy but happy. His hands were full, running back and forth performing different tasks, visiting Marcus and spending time with both Legolas and his other companions, it all kept him too busy to mull over the possible outcomes of the impending battle. He knew that it wouldn't be long now before the dark army appeared before them, Aragorn had esteemed that they would most likely be arriving in the cover of the dark, probably attempting a surprise attack. It wasn't very likely though, Harry knew, that they would be caught off guard, the amount of guards Théoden had situated at the gate walls would easily prevent such a thing from happening. The only way they could be at all surprise was if they came from the back, that was impossible however, when considering the fact that Helm's Deep was practically etched out of the mountain itself.

Looking up from the weapon he was sharpening he caught sight of Legolas. The elf's eyes hadn't left him since they had arrive in the dining room for breakfast, not even the blond's own tasks could distract him from observing his mate and Harry was amazed to see that Legolas hadn't cut himself on the knife he was handling. He was beginning to get used to it now, of being under constant surveillance. The heated sensation of having Legolas' pale blue eyes drilling into his skin at all times could barely be felt and, surprisingly, he was actually beginning to take comfort of being watched so diligently. It was nice to be taken care of in such a way and know that there was someone out there who loved him and appreciated him enough to do that.

He sent a small smile to the elf before bowing his head and concentrating on his work. The sharpening stone glided over the blade of his sword while the sound of stone grinding against metal filled the air.

"Does your father know where you are?" He asked, not looking away from his task but still making it obvious that he was talking to no other than the young boy sitting beside him.

"Of course he does, he walked me here, told me that so long as I stayed out of the way and didn't bother you I could come." Marcus nonchalantly replied, his feet swinging back and forth as he leaned forward slightly, supporting himself with his hands on the table his bum was currently parked on.

"Ah, he said that, did he?" Harry replied, pausing for a moment to properly look at his sword, keeping an eye out for any possible scratches.

"Mhm, he thinks very highly of you you know." Grey eyes turned away from the young wizard in order to observe the rest of the room. "He says that anyone that can handle me without collapsing from exhaustion at the end of the day is just as much of a man that he is, if not more so."

A light chuckle tumbled out of his throat as a smile decorated his face. "I can imagine."

"You do know that you'll have to leave soon, right Marcus?" He questioned, sliding his sword back in its sheathe and placing his sharpening stone on the table before him.

"Yeah, I don't want to though."

"Why?"

"Because I want to fight." Marcus passionately burst out. " Did you know that a friend of mine is going to fight, he's been given a sword and everything and he's just two years older than me. It's not fair!"

"You shouldn't say that," Harry quietly answered, grabbing a hold of Marcus' right shoulder. "War isn't something you should want to be involved in, it's something that you should want to stay away from. 12 years is much too young to take part in the gruesome fight that is about to happen and you're age of ten is even worse. You stay away from the battlefield and join the children and women in the caves, you hear me?"

The sullen nod that came from the young boy did nothing to soothe him, instead he continued to mutter to himself about the idiocy of a certain king. "What on earth is he thinking, sending children still not old enough to leave their families out into battle. And he calls himself a king! When I find him I'm going to pick the sharpest and most violent looking sword that I can find and show him how to rule a country. It's a wonder that people actually live to be over twenty years old in this country!"

Before he knew it he was on his feet, drawing his wand and storming towards the door leading out of the dining hall. His hair was flying about him, his green eyes were spitting with rage and the familiar tingle of flames right beneath his skin was rising up within him. Most likely it was the stress that had been building up in him during the day that wanted some sort of outlet, he wouldn't have reacted so violently if he had been in a right state of mind, Théoden was the king, for Merlin's sake!

He was only a few meters away from the door when he suddenly connected with a warm, green and blond wall made out of the sturdy material elf. "And where exactly do you think you're going in such a rush?"

"To kick some royal arse! Perhaps some neutering as well, if I'm lucky and the guards doesn't get to me before I can manage it."

"Which royal arse is it that I should send my condolences to?" Legolas questioned as calm as ever despite the raging wizard he was facing.

"King Théoden of course! The pompous bastard!" Harry spat, despite knowing that Théoden was neither pompous nor a bastard.

"Ah, well then I'm sorry to have to say that I'll have to distract you from your mission. Your little friend is still over there, waiting for you, you wouldn't want to burn him with any of those flames of yours do you?" The elf said, alerting Harry of the fact that his flames were now visible and getting larger and larger.

"But...I so wanted to teach him a lesson." It was the upcoming battle that was affecting him, he was sure of it, he had never been prone to whining before.

"I know," The blond soothed, wrapping his arms around the young wizard before turning him around and leading him back towards the table he had left Marcus at. "But I'm afraid Théoden is much too busy to allow you to teach his royal arse a lesson. It'll have to wait for another time."

It didn't take long, when Harry was once again by Marcus' side and Legolas had returned to his own thoughts, for the young boy to say something that truly made Harry question whether or not the kid really was as young as ten.

"Was that your lover?"

"Huh? My lover...D-do you even know what that is?"

"Of course I do," Marcus replied in a matter of fact tone. " When a man and a woman, in this case two males, feels really strongly for each other they do this thing called _making love_, that's what dad called it anyway, when they make love they become lovers. Making love consists of..."

Unnecessary as it was to say, Harry was informed about the act of sex, or making love as Marcus so firmly insisted, by a ten year old boy.

* * *

The cuteness of Marcus compells you to click this button

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	23. Snap, it said

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
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**Warning: **Blood, fighting.**  
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**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

**A/N: **You know, I think 'm being very generous with you all, this update came very fast, or at least in my opinion it did. :D

I'm hoping and praying that the lot of you won't kill me for this one, but as I pride myself in being realistic, I realise that the chance of you not doing so is very slim indeed. The only thing I can say to you to protect myself is that not everything is as it seems. I know, pretty mysterious, but I find that after beginning to write this story and, especially, Gandalf I've become more mysterious myself. x D But enough with the rambling, I've been sick for an entire week now, sore throat and pounding forehead, I think I even had a fever for a moment. So, me being the incredibly smart person I am, I decided to use that week to finish with this chapter. It turned out pretty well, if I may say so myself, considering my sickly state.

I hope everyone enjoys and rememer, no killing the author!

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_"It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets." - Voltaire, 1694-1778._

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**Chapter 23:**

**Snap, it Said**

Darkness had settled, a thick layer of clouds covered the sky, hiding the sparkling stars that were sure to be out. A sea of moving light could be seen in the distance, a sure sign that the enemy army was no longer than an hour, maybe even half an hour, away. Harry, casually leaning against the cold gate wall, observed, taking in the skittishness of some people, the downright terrified expressions on the young children that had been forced to fight and the cool faces of the more experienced soldiers that had seen war before. The atmosphere was tense and he couldn't imagine how heavy it would be when the orcs arrived and were standing right outside the gate. Probably unbearable.

He shifted, the sound of his sword connecting with the hard stone filled his ears. He had decided to keep some distance between himself and his overprotective elf when fighting, if not he was sure that Legolas would fight and kill everyone that came within striking distance, not even giving Harry a chance of defending himself. And Harry wanted to defend himself, he had some pent up aggression that needed to be let loose and what better way was there than to take it out on the enemy? His wand, strapped against the inside of his left hand, hummed and warmed his skin in agreement.

It was the first time he had really thought of it, but it was eerie how much his wand and his newly learned element fitted together. It was almost as if he was predestined to have something to do with fire. It was nice though, he mused, that his phoenix wand core and his own, as Regulus had put it, fire core matched so nicely. If it hadn't the flames would have been much harder, as if it wasn't hard enough now, to control, considering the fact that his own wand would be fighting against it. Yes, he had been fortunate, even if fire was one of the hardest elements to control.

The army was closer now and Harry could barely make out some of the Uruk-hai's broad figures through the dark.

"Excited?" Gimli's voice came from beside him.

"More like anxious." He replied, twirling a strand of hair around his forefinger as he glanced at his friend. "Anxious to get this whole thing over and done with."

"Yeah, I imagine we all are, some are downright terrified though." He added, his opinion on the matter quite clear by the tightening of his lips.

"It's horrible what he's doing," Harry whispered fiercely, ignoring the curious looks sent their way by some of the guards near them. "Sending children out to fight, it's despicable! Did you know that Marcus wanted to fight? He thought it wasn't fair that a friend of his, only two years older, got to fight when he didn't!"

Though Gimli hadn't had the pleasure of being properly introduced to the kid yet, he _had_ seen him around and he could understand why Harry was so protective of him. Children of his age weren't supposed to fight to stay alive, nor were they supposed to kill, but unfortunately desperate times called for desperate measures and Gimli could, in fact, understand why Théoden did send out children on the battlefield. It didn't make it right, far from it, but in order for them to even have a small chance in defeating the enormous army heading for them than they needed everybody they could get.

"You talked him out of it, didn't you?" He asked, keeping from voicing his opinion knowing that if he did so then it would only lead to a discussion that would lead to a fight which would, most likely, end up with them not talking to each other. It could even evolve to such a degree that Harry would draw forth his biggest and most fearsome threat. Gimli rather liked his package where it was, thank you very much, it was much more useful there.

"Of course I did." Harry said, sending Gimli a look that clearly said ' what you think I'm stupid?'

"Then why are you so hung up on it? You should be concentrating on keeping yourself alive, not someone that's locked safely in the caves." The dwarf reasonably pointed out.

"Because I have a bad feeling about this, about him. Something is going to happen and I'm afraid I won't be able to prevent it." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, changing the hand he was leaning on.

"If something bad happens then it happens. It doesn't matter if you manage to prevent it or not, some things are just meant to happen. You don't have to take the responsibility for every bad thing that happens in this world Harry, you should concentrate on yourself and keeping your life instead of worrying about the ones that are out of danger." He grabbed a hold of his friends free hand and tugged him down so they were face to face. "Don't put me through the pain of loosing you."

Green eyes darted back and forth, taking in every detail of Gimli's face. The rough beard, the kind brown eyes and the large nose that he had often compared to a potato, rough lines and the small dark rings under his eyes were the only signs that Gimli was just as exhausted and, perhaps, frightened as the rest of them. Harry didn't think it was the fear of dying that had captured the dwarf's heart though, it was more likely that it was just now that the thought of Harry or anyone else in the Fellowship dying had hit him.

He jerked slightly, tearing himself loose from the red head's tight grip. Had they been in any other situation then Harry wouldn't have hesitated, had they been facing another danger of slightly smaller number he would have been thinking that his survival was guaranteed, he realized how arrogant and cocky that sounded now. He couldn't nod and say that he and Gimli would see each other when they'd beaten the orcs since the truth was that it was far from likely that he'd get out of this intact. Oh sure, he had a great advantage over the others considering his magic, that didn't soothe him though, for all he knew his flames could get out of control and take him down with them. The possibilities were many.

So instead of saying something ridiculously over confidant and cheesy he settled for something more simple. "I'll try my best."

"No, you're not going to try your best!" Gimli growled having caught onto the young man's depressive thoughts. "You're damn well going to get out there and kick their arses, drag out their intestines and maul them like they've never been mauled before!"

"You know, I'm all up for the kick their arses thing, but rip out their intestines? Maul them? We don't all have the blood-thirst of a dwarf you know." A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Well you should." Gimli insisted, shifting his axe into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. "It's a great stress reliever. Find yourself an orc and just let loose, always worked for me."

"Well then," Harry said motioning to the many figures having come to a stop right outside the gates. "Pick one."

* * *

Adrenaline coursed through his body as he tried to keep his breath steady, his hair whipped about him as the wind picked up. The archers around him stood stiff, their arrows, lit with flames at the arrow heads, notched in their bows as they waited for the clear signal. The roars, insults and horrid descriptions of what was going to happen to them when this was all over rang from bellow. They took it, not showing a single sign that they were affected.

He was impatient, ready to begin with the fighting so they could end all this. Restless to get out of there to check up on Marcus and make sure that the boy hadn't done anything stupid, something stupid that Harry would have done when he had been younger and less experienced. In other words something that would put him in life-threatening danger. Oh he _really _hoped the boy had more brains in him than that.

"Ready?" Gimli whispered loudly, jumping up and down as dignified as he could in order to see what was going on. "You do just like we agreed, pick the ugliest and stupidest looking out of the lot of them and let him have it. I promise you'll feel _so _much better."

"And don't use the flame thingy either," he added, glaring at the young wizard with suspicion painted across his face. "It won't give you the same satisfaction, I'm sure."

"Ah, brute strength then?" He pleasantly asked, smiling down at his friend as if discussing the weather.

"Of course, there's nothing else worth trying," Gimli snorted, looking up at Harry with a glint in his eyes. "That elf of yours for example, throwing his arrows about and wasting his time on a flimsy weapon like that. You should drop him, Harry, find yourself a manly man."

"Changed your opinion of him have you?"

"Well, no... It's just that you need someone that's able to handle your brute nature, I mean beating up orcs just to relieve your aggression, what are you thinking Harry?" A mocking grin tugged at the corner of his lips, drawing them back in order to reveal a row of straight yet slightly discoloured teeth.

"Oh shut up." Harry said, lightly hitting the back of Gimli's head.

They quieted after that, the anticipation of a fight taking over them as they caressed their weapons, Gimli his axe and Harry his wand. It wouldn't be long now, he mused, until Aragorn gave the signal and a fury of flaming arrows would fly through the air and disturb the front line the enemy army had created. The arm, which had been suspended high in the air for the past five minutes dropped and the arrows flew. Shrieks of both pain and anger filled the air as several orcs fell to the ground with an arrow each sticking out of various parts of their bodies. And as if an invisible line had been breached the battle was on. Orcs, goblins and Uruk-hai stormed forth, their weapons raised high in the air as they, despite the humongous amount of flaming arrows rained down on them. They were far from defeated though, there were thousands upon thousands of the enemy and they had only defeated the first line of them.

His heart raced harder and harder as he drew his sword, preparing himself for the fight that was to come. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that the enemy would manage to breach the fortress, either by ladder or by breaking down the gate-doors. And as if they had read his mind a loud boom erupted in the air, signalling the first impact between the solid doors and a large tree-trunk. At the same time as this was happening several ladders connected with the stone wall and the foe immediately began climbing. He moved forward, throwing his entire weight on the ladders in order to push them down and away from the wall. It didn't work, however, as his weight was nothing compared to the ladder and the many bodies that were currently climbing their way up it.

He moved back slightly, his muscles tensing in anticipation for his next move. Just as the first orc's head was within view he swiftly swung his blade, feeling it connect with skin before tearing through tissue, muscles and bone, effectively decapitating it. Blood sprayed everywhere, into the air, on the grey stone wall and finally on Harry, coating him from head to toe in black liquid. A grimace fluttered across his features, twisting them in an unpleasant manner before disappearing just as fast as it had arrived. Two more orcs had come to replace the one he had already cut down. With horrible shrieks that rang in his ears they threw themselves at him. For a moment he was overwhelmed, pushed to the ground by their combined weight.

A grunt escaped him as one of them sat on his stomach, keeping him down and forcing his breath out of him. The other had settled behind him, his legs spreading out to lie comfortably by Harry's sides as the young wizard's hands were gripped tightly and restrained. A tongue of a gruesome blue colour moved across dark lips, the orc on his stomach leaned forward, sending disgusted shivers through his body as it licked a trail up his neck.

"Oh how delicious it'll be when your blood is spilt, I assure you, I won't let a single drop go to waste." Yellow eyes shone with madness as a long knife was drawn, glinting in the air as it descended.

A shout of his name grabbed his attention. Green eyes darted to the side seeing Legolas fighting at least three orcs in order to get to him. The elf's blond hair flew in every direction, creating a feeling of chaos that Harry had never connected with Legolas. He would have to make sure that he was out of the elf's sight for the remainder of the battle, he mused, it was too dangerous for Legolas to be distracted by Harry's well-being.

A laugh, sounding very much like a clucking chicken, sounded from the one seated behind him. It distracted him, drawing his gaze away from his mate. The stench of rotten breath invaded his nose and just as the knife was about to penetrate his ski, the body on top of him stiffened with a grunt before falling sideways. A short axe was lodged in its back, penetrating it's spine and rendering it dead to the world. Nails, as sharp as claws, dug into his skin, breaking it and allowing a few drops of crimson blood to spill. An enraged shout flowed into his ears and he knew that if he didn't do something soon his throat would be slit faster than he could imagine.

With all that in mind he clenched his abdomen muscles, shifted his weight to his upper back and threw both his feet back and into the air. In a show of flexibility they wrapped around the orc's neck, applying more and more pressure before twisting to the right. The sickening sound of bones breaking sent a wave of satisfaction through him. The claws latched onto his arms loosened and he was free to keep on fighting.

Jumping to his feet he was up and running, shouting a thanks to Gimli as he moved past him. He threw himself with no restraint at a particularly vicious looking Uruk-Hai that was fighting a young soldier and winning. He lightly pushed the soldier, he couldn't have been more than thirteen years the poor kid, out of the way and immediately parried the attack. A sneer developed on his opponents face as he realized that the easy prey had been replaced by someone more capable of taking care of themselves.

Just as he was about to reach for his wand and release a fury of flames Gimli's words came to mind and he let it be. Swiftly, he grabbed a hold of his sword with both his hands before swinging it in an upward motion that left a fresh cut in its wake. The Uruk-Hai growled, breathing heavily through its nose as blood trailed down its thick arm before launching itself at him. The sound of their swords clashing and grinding against each other joined the other sounds in the air, drowning and overwhelmed by the screams, grunts and cries that were released from both sides.

A mocking smile touched his face, tugging his lips in an upward motion that was far from sincere. "What no foreplay?"

His foe snarled, swinging its strange looking weapon with such a force that Harry could feel the air swishing by as he barely dodged it. Apparently mocking an Uruk-Hai in the middle of battle wasn't such a good idea after all. Hurriedly he ducked, hearing the sword slashing the air where his head had previously been before gracefully moving forward and stabbing his enemy in the stomach. Blood flooded forth, running downwards as Harry twisted his weapon, bringing it up before yanking it out with a sickening sound. A thud signalled that his opponent had fallen.

He didn't linger, instantly throwing himself at a new opponent before moving on from that one when he had been killed as well. With a fierceness about him that didn't quite fit his small frame he fought, cutting down opponent after opponent until finally he felt something akin to satisfaction and his stress had practically been drained out of him. He drew his wand, smirking as the wood practically glowed with anticipation and power. It was time to stop playing.

Several hours had passed by and the battle was still very much ongoing. The enemy had, just as Harry had predicted, managed to breach the gate-doors and were now currently swarming the fortress. He was, understandably, getting tired. His breath came in pants and he could have sworn that he wasn't as good at dodging the attacks sent at him as he had been when the fight had first begun. Still, he managed to keep up and that was all that mattered.

He had several times caught sight of Legolas. The elf, it seemed, was desperate to get closer to him, the urge to protect his mate clear on his face. Each time this happened though, Harry made sure to move further away. He didn't want to be protected. He wanted to fight and defend himself without having to rely on others. Harry was more mature and it was time for his companions to realize that.

With a small flick of his wrist he sent an orc flying, watching as it fell from the gate-wall only to be speared by one of the spears being held up in the air by his own allies. Another was thrown in the opposite direction, hitting a fellow orc that was just about to stab a young boy with his sword. The scent of blood clouded his nose and his head was spinning with the excitement of it all. He, once again, threw himself into the midst of it all. His sword clashed with that of others, piercing skin and muscles, taking lives as if they were no more than insects that needed to be squashed.

More hours, barely noticed due to the constant need of fending for his life, went by. When the first rays of sunlight shone on his face and warmed his skin the fighting had been going on for the whole night. Sweat and blood were all gathered on his body, making his skin sticky. He had only been allowed a few breaks and even that was only for a few minutes. His muscles were beginning to stiffen as well, having reached their limit. It was all quite clear to Harry that the fight would need to end soon, he feared that if it didn't then there would be a wizard less in the world.

There was a drastic decrease of enemies to fight, but they were still very much overwhelmed. For every orc they killed, two of their own was robbed from them. The need to see Gandalf again rose with every second and, despite knowing otherwise, he was beginning to doubt whether the old wizard's horse was as fast as Gandalf had boasted it to be.

He ducked, gracefully avoiding a sword before his foot shot out, catching his attacker in the stomach and effectively pushing him back. With a slashing move of his wand and a whispered 'sectumsempra' large gashes appeared on the goblin's large body, black blood spurting out from them. Without prolonging the creature's death, Harry shoved his sword straight into its chest and thus piercing its heart.

"Blimey I need a shower." He grimaced as he was once again sprayed by the enemy's foul blood.

A grunt escaped him as someone, surprisingly enough, smaller than him ran straight into him. He immediately raised his sword, spun around and stared with wide, shocked eyes at what greeted him.

"What the hell are you doing here!" He shouted, grabbing a hold of a shoulder before dragging his companion after him. "You were supposed to be in the caves!"

"I told you, I wanted to fight." Marcus replied, looking incredibly small with the large helmet covering his head.

"And how does that look right now?!" Harry shouted, glaring for a moment before swinging around and gutting someone with his sword before yanking it out and spinning around to look at the young lad. "You're lucky you aren't already dead!"

Marcus was shaking, his face pale and his eyes were flitting back and forth like a cornered animal. "I-it's a lot worse than I first thought it would be..."

"Another reason why you shouldn't be here, this isn't a place for children to be." He sighed. Had they been in any other situation and not fighting such a large number he would have made the boy invisible, but as it was he needed all the magic he could get, he couldn't tell him to stay hidden as that was impossible. Marcus would be killed in a matter of seconds. There was only one option, one far too dangerous.

"You listen to me then, when I say duck, you duck, when I tell you to jump, run or hide, you do exactly as I say." With two fingers he beckoned the young boy to follow him, turning back to the battle. "Stay close to me."

And so with a handicap in the form of a young child Harry returned to battle, his mind more alert and ready than ever. He was fighting for two now, and it would take all his skill to keep them both alive.

He twisted and turned, jumped and ducked, turning it all into a graceful dance. Lights of various colours were shot in every directions at the same time as he clashed swords with enemy after enemy. Marcus stayed by his side all the while, occasionally having to draw his own oversized sword to fight when Harry couldn't defend him.

His breath came in gasps and he gritted his teeth as he once again parried a slash made at him. The force of the blow sent him staggering backwards. He grunted as he fell to the ground, landing on his arse before an excruciating pain erupted in his lower back. A lump settled in his throat as he swallowed, pushing himself to his feet and rushing towards his enemy with his sword raised. His back ached with every move he made and that was the only distraction needed for his opponent to get in a hit. Blood poured down from his forehead, running into his right eye and obscuring his sight.

"Harry! Help, help!" Marcus suddenly shouted, kicking and squirming in panic as an orc, having gone unnoticed by Harry, dragged him away.

"Shit!" Harry shouted, ducking as a sword with a jagged blade tried to pierce him from behind. He was fighting two at once now.

Desperation pumped through him as he looked around. There was no sign of his friends anywhere. Not one that could help him out of this or at least rescue Marcus. He snarled, twisting his face in an unpleasant way as he threw spell after spell while at the same time swinging his sword like a madman. Another, this one an Uruk-Hai, closed in on him making it a total of three enemies surrounding him. He ducked, dodged, attacked and cursed most beautifully, taking them all down. Four more replaced them. Their swords raised and ready. They circled him, closing in on him, not giving him a single escape route. The air parted as swords were swung his way. Blood spurted as several gashes split open on his skin. He paled.

"Use your sword Marcus!" He shouted, wincing as pain once again washed through him. "Just hang on, I'll be there!"

Rough laughter surrounded him as his opponents listened to his words. They mocked him, pushed him around before finally, in a unanimous attack they disarmed him. The haunting clang of his sword falling to the ground slammed into his ears, the horrible pain of feeling his wand broken echoed within. He wanted to scream, fall to his knees and cry. He couldn't though, Marcus was still in danger.

Two hands, stinking of sweat and blood, thick with muscles grabbed a hold of him, dragging him back up against a hard chest as a sharp blade was pointed at his neck. A drop of blood ran down his skin as the tip of the sword dug into his soft flesh. "I want you to watch this, watch as your little whelp dies."

A sharp scream, filled with agony, fear and desperation slashed through the air. Tears gathered in his eyes as he took in the large sword piercing Marcus' vulnerable belly. Green eyes dulled and looked in another direction as the sword was yanked out and the young boy's body was pushed to the ground, as if having no more worth than filth.

Heat rose within him, an inferno of feelings clashed, tearing his insides apart as a scream rumbled from his chest, travelling through his throat before being released in the air. The little that was left of his sanity, his control, snapped.

* * *

I've run out of ideas for the whole click this button thing so...

Click this button here

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	24. Things Aren't Always As They Seem

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
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**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
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**Warning: **There's fighting and some blood

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

**A/N: **So this chapter took a little longer to finish than I had intended to, I have an excuse though! I had four written exams**, **one oral and I even had an English article that needed to be delivered by Friday, so yeah, last week was pretty busy. And I'm sorry to say that due to the fact that I have two tests and one oral exam this week as well I won't be getting much time for writing, I can't even use the weekend because I'll be gone. I hate May, it's always so busy and stressful.

Anyway, enough about that. I have an inkling that most of you are going to be rather happy with me after this chapter. I'm actually happy myself. ;D

Enjoy my darling readers, enjoy!

CrimsonSnowflake

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_"I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life's realities._" - Theodore Geisel, 1904-1991

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**Chapter 24:**

**Things Aren't Always As They Seem**

Heat surrounded him. Flames, in a mixture of blue, white and red, licked at his skin. His dark hair flew in every direction, affected by the wind as he threw his head backwards, his mouth open in a silent scream. Fury occupied his whole being, from his feet to his head, stretching out to his fingers and toes. His inner mind played the scene of Marcus being stabbed over and over again, fuelling his rage. With a bang his flames grew, heating up, reaching for the sky and consuming any oxygen that came in its way. The four enemies that surrounded him were burnt to a crisp in mere seconds, their screams still ringing in the air. Its eyes glowing, the dragon headed for Marcus' murderer, swooping down and swallowing the despicable orc in one bite, the flames insuring that the creature dissolved into nothing as horrible screams slammed against his eardrums. It was like music to his ears.

With a power-surge that seemed near impossible, considering all the magic that already was in the air, Harry was lifted off the ground, hovering a few inches above it. He wasn't thinking clearly as flames shot out, burning anyone that came within reach, enemies as well as allies. He was surrounded by an inferno, unreachable. His mind was corrupted, darkening by the minute as it was consumed by the urge for revenge. He wanted to kill the orc that had speared Marcus, he wanted to maim him and watch him suffer and pay for what he had done. His mind had snapped, like a thin string it had been cut and all that was left in its wake was flames and an all consuming need to deliver retaliation.

He screamed, twisting and turning as an unexplainable pain spread throughout his chest. His heart was beating so hard, so fast and loud that he was nearly afraid it would collapse on him. With a blaring boom, sounding nearly like a gunshot, a humongous dragon, the same as he had used when fighting Saruman, burst forth and out of his chest. The sheer power sent him flying a few feet backwards. White and blue flames made up its body and even Harry, who was partially immune to it, could feel the incredible heat that rolled off of it in waves.

The battlefield, which had earlier been filled with screams and the sound of steel meeting steel, was quiet. Ominously so. It was as if they were all waiting for a ticking bomb to explode, the beeps bringing them closer and closer to their demise. The wind picked up and, suddenly, the dragon made its move. Screeches of pain and fear rang through the air as the awful stench of burnt orc filled their noses. The magnificent form flew all over the battle field, breathing rays of scolding hot flames and setting everything on fire.

It moved back towards him, twirling around him before grabbing a hold of his waist with its scorching hot tail. The wind whipped about him as they flew further and further up into the air. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he reached within himself and searched for the fiery globe he knew to be there. If he could only reach it, touch it, then maybe he could get some of his control back again, maybe he could keep his magic from killing everyone around him. It was a big if, a big risk, considering the fact that he would practically be unconscious for the time he spent searching for his flame core. Anything could happen while he tried to fix this.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he plunged, diving straight into the darkness of his own mind. All the while shocking tingles of agonizing pain vibrated through him, running through every single nerve that was under his skin. There was no going back now.

* * *

It had been expected, even anticipated. He had been prepared to bring his young friend to a deserted area, ready to guide him through the enormous change that he himself had gone through in his early years. He had never had any intention of leaving Harry alone to go through this excruciating experience, yet things had happened, in form of a young boy of ten something Gandalf had been unable to predict had arrived.

He winced, watching from his horse atop of the hill, as the dragon wrapped its tail around his friend, carrying him high up towards the sky . It would be much harder to deal with this then he had anticipated. The mere fact that it was the element of fire Harry was carrying inside him complicated things much more than it would have had it been water or wind. Of course, since his own element was fire he would have been able to handle it, but then Harry's dragon was added to the equation.

Every wizard had an element they ruled over and that element always took the form of an animal. Saruman's was an eagle, Radagast's a wolf and his own was a very charming little fox. Had Harry's been a phoenix, fox or a salamander it would have been so much easier, so much more manageable. Of course, nothing was ordinary nor easy about the young wizard and as such he really shouldn't have been surprised that the boy would end up with a dragon. It made his job much harder though.

Taming a dragon was near impossible, they had a nasty temper, an arrogant and malicious nature and a fierce possessiveness over whatever they considered to be theirs that was incredibly dangerous. Fire in a dragons form was the most primitive, the one a wizard's familiar took on before they had properly bonded and it was, obviously, hazardous to both health and the environments. Gandalf dreaded facing it. Especially considering the fact that it was none other than _Harry's_ fire in the form of a dragon.

He gestured for Èomer to lead his men down to the battlefield, shaking the man from his awe-filled staring. Even though Harry had stopped fighting, too occupied with controlling his magic, that didn't mean that the enemy had done so. Taking a deep breath he steeled himself, scanning Harry and his dragon for any sign of weaknesses. He tightened the grip on his staff, feeling the heat spread through him as the wood shone red for a short second. There was only one weakness, one that Gandalf had been hoping he could have avoided taking advantage of. The only spot he could attack was the source of it all, Harry. His young friend was the weak spot, the only place that wasn't protected by flames and magic.

Guiding Shadowfax into a light trot he moved towards his fellow wizard, his heart tightening to a near painful extent as he prepared to summon the magic he knew would be needed. Harry needed to be restrained and taken to somewhere far away from people, he knew that the young man wouldn't ever forgive himself should he be the reason why some of his companions were injured and, since Gandalf viewed the boy as a grandchild, it was his job to keep him from having to experience such a thing. Even if he had to use force to do so. It was for Harry's own good after all.

The wind whipped around him as his horse companion sped up. Flying, like the wind, across the battle field they moved closer and closer to the place where every orc and man seemed to desperately avoid. Heat swirled around, hitting him with such force that it seemed as if he had walked straight into a wall. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as the intensity of the heat grew to a near unbearable degree. It was unendurable to watch as cry upon cry of harrowing agony was wrenched from Harry's throat, the uncontrolled movements the young wizard's body made as it was flung from side to side, following every movement the dragon made. Harry looked like a rag doll about to be discarded in mere moments.

The raging battle, which had been previously paused due to unusual circumstances, was now more heated than ever. More blood was spilt, more lives were taken and the volume and quantity of the screams had increased. There was something new to it all though, something that had lit up inside every soldier the moment Éomer had showed up with his many men. Hope. Now if he could only manage to snap Harry out of his unrestrained state that hope would be complete and they would all be able to fully focus on winning the battle. A ray of scorching hot flames shot right past him, singing the outsides of his pride and joy, his beard. Somehow he didn't think it would be all that easy.

* * *

The darkness cradled him like a newborn baby, surrounding him on every edge as he navigated, with difficulty, around the many threads that created a labyrinth within his own being. The temperature was irregular, dropping and growing at an unbelievable speed, making it difficult for him to know whether he was supposed to be freezing because of the cold or panting from the warmth. It felt as if he had been walking for hours upon hours without getting anywhere. His feet were growing numb and the dark tightened in on him, shadows growing.

He'd never expected this. Or, rather, he had never wanted nor wished to expect it. To realize that he had such darkness, such a hostile place within himself. Harry had always liked to think of himself as good, or at least as good as someone with a messed up childhood could become. He prided himself in knowing that, somewhere in between all the housework, missed birthdays, occasional abuse and practically having raised himself, he'd still managed to get through life with nice values and a good and proper head. But discovering that he, one of the good guys, had something like this inside of him was very much unnerving. And it only lead to him wondering that if he had something like this inside of him, then what would Voldemort have?

He shivered, drawing his cloak tighter around him as he buried is nose in the coarse fabric. His sword, which had previously been hanging from his hip, swinging back and forth with his movements, was nowhere to be seen. He had no idea where his wand was, it didn't matter though, broken as it was. And even if it hadn't been he couldn't have been sure that it would have been there with him either, the only things he had with him were the clothes he was wearing. Everything else had been stripped away without his permission. He was relying solely on his own body to keep him safe, to manoeuvre himself up, down and around the sharp threads. He had several cuts on his body that proved exactly _how _sharp they were. They'd cut into his skin as easily, if not more so, as a newly sharpened blade.

The sound of a fire crackling suddenly reached his ears, breaking through the all consuming silence that had ruled his surroundings ever since he had dived into them. A weak light, shining slightly red, caught his attention. He moved towards it. His breath quickening and his heart beating harder. Was this it? Had he finally, after what seemed like days of walking, reached his magical core?

Yes, he realized as he was greeted by the sight of a large orb hovering in the air. A sense of familiarity flowed through him as he moved closer to the glass sphere. Yellow and red flames licked at the fragile walls as a gust of sheer magical power rolled off of it in waves, hitting him right in the chest. It wasn't what he had imagined it would look like, it was much smaller, much more simple. He had thought it would be something more awe inspiring, something beautiful and never before seen. Finding that it looked very much like a light bulb on fire was somewhat of a disappointment.

He took another step forward, the muscles in his hand twitching with the urge to reach out and grab a hold of the ball. Swallowing the spit that had pooled in his mouth he did just that, watching with anxious eyes to see if something would happen. It didn't. It was strangely anticlimactic. There was no wall of flames suddenly bursting forth, nothing that came chasing after him, just his hand and the sphere, skin connecting with cold glass. His fingers had sifted right through the flames as if they were no more than a mere illusion. The burn he had expected was non-existent and he found himself drawing his hand back and staring at it in wonder.

Green eyes filled with wonder darted back and forth from his own skin and to the glass sphere hanging in the air before him. He reached forward, wrapping his fingers around the fragile looking glass before pulling. Nothing happened. His eyes narrowed, glaring suspiciously at the innocent looking ball before he lifted his second hand, wrapping that one around the glass as well, and, with a little more power to it, he pulled. Once again, the sphere didn't budge, not even a single inch. It was glued to the spot.

He pursed his lips, circling the small object as he searched for any possible weaknesses. There was nothing to indicate that the sphere couldn't be moved, it was suspended in the air with nothing to keep it there, yet Harry couldn't even move it. Carefully he felt around in the air, checking to see if there was some sort of invisible contraption that held it in place. There was no such thing, granted the air around the ball was slightly warmer than the rest but that couldn't possibly be enough to keep it from shifting. Closing his eyes he concentrated, gathering a small amount of magic just under the skin on his right hand. It tickled, sending shivers up his arm and to his neck. He reached out once again, his hand closing in around the sphere.

Pure, unimaginable pain erupted through his very being. A loud shriek was wrenched out of his chest, travelling up through his throat before flowing across his lips. The flames, which he had earlier been able to touch without hurting himself, had latched onto him, gripping his hand with its searing hot fire as if it had a will of its own and making it impossible for him to tear loose. No matter how much he tried. The darkness disappeared, chased away by the light from the many fires that had risen to surround him. They licked at his clothes, burning them to a crisp and nearly reaching the vulnerable skin that lay beneath. His breath came in pants as he tried to breathe through the torturous pain.

Sweat rolled down his neck as the room temperature rose. The flames grew even larger and he had to fight to stay conscious. A wave of magic rose within him, roaring and demanding to be let out in order to fight the insolent fire that dared to oppose their master. Electricity crackled in the air as the tension grew. His magic seemed to have a mind of its own as it seized up its opponent. Nothing Harry did could reel it in, and, to be honest, he didn't particularly want to contain it. The moment it had surfaced the fiery pain that ruled his body had disappeared.

His green eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body shook and trembled to such a degree that it almost seemed as if he was having a seizure. Loud booms filled the air as his magic and the flames crashed against each other, fighting for control. Bolts of lightning flew everywhere, destroying everything it connected with. The flashes created by the unruly magic quickened until the whole room was lit up and Harry was blinded by it all.

Everything turned silent as the light suddenly disappeared and Harry could finally see again. All that was left from the powerful display was the glass sphere, devoid of the flames that had previously been licking at its seemingly thin walls. The content purring of his magic made him draw the conclusion that the fire had been defeated and that his own magic had come out as the one on top. Cautiously he grabbed a hold of the ball, his lips tilting upwards at the lack of pain. Experimentally, he tugged at it, testing to see if it would move. It did.

With a curious air about him he lifted it up to his eyes, taking in every single detail. A small Chinese dragon fluttered about inside of it, throwing flames after flames at the glass in order to get free. Its red scales and yellow mane shone like no other and Harry could see all the muscles flexing in the dragon's powerful body. Straight horns grew from the dragons head, only a few bumps here and there could be seen. Otherwise it was perfectly smooth. Red eyes turned to meet with Harry's green as the dragon stopped twisting around in favour of taking in the new presence.

Slowly, Harry traced the creature's form, his finger running along the glass. He had the strangest feeling, an urge you could say, to throw the glass to the ground and free the beautiful being. Something told him that such a creature wasn't to be held in a prison, but rather let loose and allowed to fly freely in the sky. His limbs practically trembled with the urge and so, without really thinking much of it, he raised his arm high up in the air, listening to the almost triumphant roar that suddenly could be heard from the sphere, and threw it forcefully to the ground.

The glass shattered.

* * *

The wind tore at his clothes, tugging the fabrics in different directions. Something warm and hard was twisted around his waist and, though he knew that he should have been frantic to get loose, Harry relaxed. He was secure in the knowledge that whatever was holding him would never ever dare to hurt him. A resonating growl filled the air, flying into his ears. He could feel the vibrations from it travelling through his body.

He opened his eyes, the soft lids moving back in order to allow him to see. It wasn't what he had expected to see, that was for sure. There, right in front of him, was Gandalf surrounded by flames and accompanied by a large nine-tailed fox. To the old man's right stood Gimli, uneasily running a hand through his beard and tightening the grip he had on his axe. It was glaringly obvious to Harry that Gandalf was about to do something Gimli didn't fully agree with. To the wizard's left stood Legolas, as impressive as ever with his blond hair moving in the wind, his bow in hand as he fired arrow after arrow at any of the enemy that dared to approach them. The elf was worried, Harry could see, the narrow eyes and small wrinkle between his eyebrows that always seemed to appear when Legolas was concerned for him, Harry.

He didn't need any more information than that to realize that Gandalf was about to do something to _him, _Harry, something he wouldn't like. He shifted slightly, feeling harsh scales against his skin. He could feel his magic rising, on its own accord, underneath his skin. Everything tingled as a blank shield appeared before him, surrounding him on every edge as the thing holding him moved. An enormous dragon head appeared in front of him, facing away from him. He was confident that if he didn't do or say something soon, then something bad would happen.

And so with that in mind he shouted, "You wouldn't believe the amazing view I've got up here! I can see everything!"

And just like that Gandalf's grey eyes widened, Legolas' broad shoulders stiffened and Gimli's mouth dropped wide open. He had to admit that it was the first time he had managed to surprise his companion's in such a way.

Lifting a hand he stroked the dragon's scales, watching as the ground came closer and closer as he descended towards the earth. It felt good to be back, out of that wretched darkness and back in his own sane mind. His feet felt heavy as they connected with land. The dragon's long body coiled around him as it too landed on solid ground. Cautiously, as he was still a little unsteady from spending so much time up in the air, he made his way around the great serpent's many limbs. A small, weary smile decorated his features as he finally got out of the maze that was his dragon's body.

His breath was knocked out of him as Legolas slammed into him, the elf's arms surrounding his body as he drew him tightly up against his chest. The males familiar scent wafted up into his nostrils, filling his nose once again as Harry buried his face into the slightly coarse fabric of the elf's clothes. He placed a soft kiss on his chest, taking the time to nuzzle his nose further into Legolas chest before reluctantly drawing away in order to face his other two companions.

"Where is he?" He asked, directing the question more towards Gimli than Gandalf.

The dwarf didn't speak, only pointed. Without hesitation Harry moved towards Marcus' still body, his heart beating fast. He could feel the muscles in his feet flexing and trembling with every step he took, it almost felt as if he was a baby taking its first steps. He ducked, dropping to the ground as a large sword swung over his head. And just as he was about to draw his sword and retaliate his dragon soared through the, power rolling off of it as it descended, taking a hold of the orc with its jaws before closing them, crunching every bone in the enemy's body.

He climbed to his feet again and resumed walking, only stopping and dropping to his knees when he had finally reached his young friend's body. A pool of red blood stained the ground beneath him. It was almost painful to take in the paleness of the boy's usually red cheeks. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. Leaning forward he laid his head on the small chest, ignoring the blood smearing onto his face. He closed his eyes, locking out the rest of the world as he trusted the dragon to keep him safe. Abruptly he opened them again, lifting his head as he stared at the little body in disbelief. He had felt a heartbeat, a very vague one but a heartbeat nonetheless.

Marcus was still alive.

* * *

I'd like to give a shout out to bookworm51485 and Gwendolyn Von Gratz, congratulations you two were the only, I think, to figure out that because Marcus was stabbed in the stomach he wasn't necessarily dead! :D

Click this button

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And know that you've made at least one person in the world incredibly happy :D


	25. Thoughts And Emotions

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **none**  
**

** Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

**A/N: **I'm so incredibly relieved to be done with this chapter. It took such a long time because I kept jumping back and forth and I couldn't quite decide what to write. I've also been having a rather dry period lately, it almost seemed as if the creativity was sucked right out of me, luckily I managed to suck it right back and here's the result! Enjoy my little darlings, enjoy! :D

* * *

_"Forgiveness is the economy of the heart... forgiveness saves the expense of anger, the cost of hatred, the waste of spirits." - Hannah More, 1745 - 1833_

* * *

**Chapter 25:**

**Thoughts And Emotions  
**

Dust filled the air, disturbed by the stack of books forcefully slammed down on the unused table. Slender fingers grabbed a hold of the book on top and moved it to lay on soft thighs. Immediately, the sound of pages being turned filled the air as brown eyes frantically moved back and forth, skimming through the contents with ease. Dark rings signified lack of sleep and the slightly hollow cheeks made it obvious that the girl wasn't eating properly.

Frustration was a feeling Hermione Jane Granger was becoming quite used to, she had endured it for many months now. It had become a part of her day, not a moment passed by without her feeling it. It was present even now, as she worked her way through every book that was in Grimmauld place's library to find something, anything, to help bring Harry back.

Honestly she was beginning to get desperate. Every day that went by without any knowledge of where her friend was, tore at her. With each day she was coming closer and closer to that edge, the edge that separated sanity from madness. It was showing on her body too. She was growing thinner, not caring so much for hygiene as she had before and not sleeping nearly as much as she should have either. Wasting away would be a nice way of putting it, she thought.

"You should go to bed." Ron's hoarse voice reached her ears, coming from behind her.

"I can't. I can't sleep." She said, not looking up from the book she was so emerged in.

"Again?" The red head walked over, settling down on the couch beside her. "Have you tried taking some potions?"

"They don't work." She replied. "They stopped working after the first two weeks."

"You should have come to me." Ron stated, his blue eyes swivelling around to look at her. "You shouldn't have to suffer through this alone Hermione."

"I didn't want to wake you." The bushy haired witch spoke placing the book on the table before grabbing onto another one.

A large hand reached out and latched onto her wrist, dragging her closer to him as he said in a fierce voice, "Look at me! _Look at me!_ You need to react, 'Mione, show some emotions and allow yourself to grieve. You know Harry wouldn't have wanted you to become the emotionless shell you are heading for right now."

"Six months." Hermione whispered. "Six months have passed by and there still aren't any signs of Harry returning. How can you expect me to do nothing when knowing that?"

"I'm not expecting you to do nothing, I'm expecting you to do something while taking care of yourself. You're wasting away Hermione! Bit by bit you're disappearing right in front of my eyes and I can't even help you." He roared, his breath coming out in pants as his hands clenched into tight fists. "How do you think that feels? Knowing that I've lost one best friend and that I'll lose the other soon!"

"I...I didn't know." She answered, her voice slightly high pitched as she tried to keep her tears from running down her face.

"Of course you didn't! You've been living in your own world for months now! You need to wake up and see that you're not the only one affected by this 'Mione. We all are!"

* * *

He was bothered. Not by the blood covering his clothes, nor the various cuts littering across his body, but by the unmoving body lying before him. He had been sitting there for at least a day now and still Marcus hadn't shown any sign of awakening. His green eyes, which usually shone with radiance, were dull and glazed over as if covered in ice. His hands were cold and none of the attempts he had made to warm them worked.

He shifted, taking in the sound of his stomach growling. It felt as if he had a large hole in his belly that was eating away at him. He hadn't eaten since he'd gotten back from battle, not for the lack of trying mind you. Every time he tried to digest something it came straight back up again. And so therefore he had given up the thought of getting some substance within his body and instead he filled his belly with water.

He wanted to break something, destroy it. A bubbling fury travelled through his body. Harry wasn't satisfied with his accomplishments in the battle, he would very much have liked to kill some more orcs with his own, bare hands. Allowing his dragon to take them out just didn't bring the same satisfaction through him as driving a sword through them did. It wasn't a very nice mindset, he knew, but the fact was that Harry wasn't all that innocent and good as some people would have liked him to be. He was very much aware of the fact that deep inside of him there was a hint of darkness lingering and it was in moments such as these, where his loved ones were hurt and on the brink of death, that it rose to the surface and demanded blood.

As it was, that dark side would not be satisfied this time. The enemy's army had already been defeated.

The sound of rain pouring down filled the heavy silence that had settled in the room. Quiet snores rose into the air, mixing with the sound of the rain and drawing his attention. There, in the far right corner, lay his newly found companion, the dragon, still unnamed as Harry hadn't gotten around to giving it one yet. When the battle had finished he had half expected it to disappear just like that time when it had fought Saruman's familiar. It was, however, becoming painfully clear that it would do no such thing and that Harry was officially stuck with an overly large dragon to drag around. He could imagine what an odd sight it was, Harry with his small stature, dragging a dragon at least three times bigger than him around as if it was an obedient dog.

Not that he had done much dragging, considering the fact that all his time had been spent in the exact same room he was sitting in now. But the fact still remained, that the dragon hadn't left his side. Not once had the creature risen to eat, exercise or maybe even relieve itself. And Harry found himself to be mildly impressed by the amount of self-control the dragon had to have, not to mention control over its bodily functions. Despite not getting any privacy he supposed it was a good thing. With the dragon always near him he could control him better. The people of Rohan had quite clearly displayed their disapproval and fear of the dragon. Harry found that it was much easier to deal with them if he and his dragon just stayed out of the way and didn't cause any trouble. That way the people of Rohan could forget that they even had a dragon amongst them and live on as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

A low, displeased rumbling sounded from the dragon as arms grabbed a hold of his waist, pulling him back against a very familiar chest. A couple of strands of blond hair fell across his shoulder, confirming that it was, indeed, Legolas who had come to join him. It had become quite apparent, by the glares, growls and downright vicious looks sent in the elf's direction that the dragon had no love to give to Legolas. In fact, Harry was sure that if hadn't been for the fact that he was currently held within the elf's arm, the dragon would have risen into the air and clamped its jaws tightly around Legolas' body. But as it was the creature merely settled with sending a constant array of glares towards the blond. Its red eyes glowing with its dislike. Watching as his lover, he wasn't sure if that's what they were considering that they hadn't gone all the way yet, struggled with his familiar was terribly amusing.

"He doesn't like me much, that dragon of yours." The elf murmured, his hot breath hitting Harry's sensitive skin and sending shivers down his spine.

"That's a first, isn't it?" Harry replied, a small smile spreading across his face. "Usually your rugged good looks and incredible elf charm can win over all kinds of animals."

"It's a once in a lifetime, I assure you." Legolas replied, warm lips gently pressing against the small patch of skin right behind Harry's left ear.

"How are you feeling?" The blond questioned as he tightened his grip on his mate, burying his nose in dark hair and inhaling the overwhelmingly sweet scent clinging to the strands.

"I'm angry, exhausted and I want nothing more than to break something." He muttered, entwining his fingers with those of Legolas. Perfect. It was a perfect fit, the way they interlaced and wrapped around each other. Both of them ignored the rising volume of his dragon's growls.

"I could send for Gimli," Each corner of the elf's lips was tugged upwards into a teasing smile as humour filled his voice. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind you letting loose on him."

"It amazes me how you two consider yourselves to be friends, what with the way you're always hacking away at each other." Harry replied, twisting his torso in order to come face to face with the other. "Is it some sort of bizarre expression of love?"

"Who knows." The elf said, gently squeezing the young wizard in his arms before turning to look at Marcus. "He'll be awake in three days."

"How do you know?"

"Because the herbs Aragorn gave him usually takes three days to work. He'll be awake when that third day is over and done with." Shifting backwards Legolas leaned on the cold stone wall, releasing a content sigh as Harry followed his move and leaned up against his chest.

It was nice, incredibly so, that Harry was finally accepting his affections, even more that they were returned. Considering the tensions that had begun growing between them he had half expected the wizard to shy away from his touch, his caresses, yet Harry once again surprised him by leaning into it, taking comfort in his body and the warmth and security it provided him with. Pride blossomed within his chest as he realized that his mate was, in his distress, seeking Legolas to comfort him.

Harry on the other hand wasn't at all in the same blissful state as his companion was in. Their argument still lingered in the back of his head, and it was only because of the stress having weakened his mental walls that he chose to give in to the elf. And even though he was currently relaxing in the elf's embrace, reality was that he still couldn't forget the way the blond had so easily dismissed his passionate speech. He had bared himself and allowed Legolas a small glimpse of his worries, his losses. It was unnecessary to say that the reaction he had gotten wasn't the one he had wanted, nor expected. He didn't say anything though, it could all wait until later when Marcus was awake and the people had recovered from the fierce battle. His problems in the department of love wasn't nearly as important as helping the people of Rohan get back to their normal lives, or as normal as they could be considering the evil that still lingered in the air.

For now he would keep his disappointment in check and allow Legolas to go on thinking that all was well. One step forward, two steps back was the pace in which their relationship was going, he mused to himself, perhaps it was better that way. Green eyes fell closed, his breath evened out and Harry was consumed by sleep.

* * *

Grey eyes stared up at the dark sky, taking in the slightly greenish tint that coloured the usually black canvas. It was time, he decided. Finally it was time for him to leave his sanctuary and head out in the world and do what had been his purpose in this world all along. He didn't know how many years he had been waiting for this to happen, it had been so long that the days, months, years had begun to blend together, making it impossible for him to grasp any notion of time. When he had first seen the young Potter he almost hadn't been able to believe, and for a moment he had truly believed it to be some cruel trick. But it was no mistake, the young boy's mere presence screamed destiny.

He had been unable to restrain himself and had immediately latched onto the boy. Regulus had become captivated at first sight. There was just something about Harry that seemed to draw him in. His magic, his personality or perhaps even the most cliché of them all, his wonderfully unique eyes. The Blue wizard had never seen eyes of such a colour, such a deep emerald green. It would be a shame if something was to happen to those lovely eyes, especially when Regulus had promised to protect their owner with everything he had. Everything would be lost if he didn't.

He knew that in protecting Harry he wasn't only protecting one person, but an entire community. There was so much that depended on the young wizard, so much that would fall apart and into ruins if Harry was to die the wrong way. Had it been any other situation it would have been Harry's death that had to be prevented, but as it was, the state of affairs they currently were in were so messed up that the young wizard had to die and Regulus' job was to prevent him from doing it the wrong way. He didn't like it, it felt cruel knowing that the only reason he was supposed to protect Harry, to teach him, was so that he could be robbed of his life at the most opportune time. It was as if he was raising a chicken for the sole purpose of killing it and having it for dinner.

A sigh flowed across his lips as he pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against and moved back into the cave. The the darkness did nothing to bother him as he knew every crook and corner of the place, the risk of running into something was near non existent. It was time for him to pack. If he was to make it on time it was urgent that he left as soon as possible for if not he would arrive too late. And that wouldn't do.

"Pallando, my friend," He said, turning to stare at a large shadow on his right. "How unusual of you, to sneak up on me in such a way."

"You're going after him, are you not?" The stoic man spoke.

"Of course I am." The dark haired male replied, his grey eyes turning unusually serious. "You've known all along that I would."

"You'll still go through with it? Even knowing that it'll lead to his death?" There was a steely undertone to Pallando's voice that wasn't often heard, Regulus himself had only witnessed it a few times during the time they had spent together.

"I understand that you've grown fond of him, but you know just as well as I do that this is something that was always meant to happen. We can't get in the way of this." A strong hand moved up to run through thick black hair, a habit he had adopted from his older brother. "Harry's supposed to die, it's his destiny, whatever happens after is all up to him, as you well know."

"And I'm just supposed to sit there, watch and do nothing?" Brown eyes flashed with anger.

"No, you won't have to watch because you won't be joining me. Your assistance is not needed on this trip, my friend, I will be going alone. This burden will be mine to bear, only mine."

"Do you think it will be easy?" Pallando took a step closer. "Do you trust him to go through with it?"

"No, I don't. Even if Harry has made up his mind and is ready to die, just as he knows he should, that elf of his won't allow it to happen. No matter what Harry does the elf will be there to prevent it. This won't be easy, but I won't put you through something like this, I will not watch you suffer as we separate two people in love." Regulus' grey eyes shone with sadness as he pushed past his friend and walked out of the room. A strong hand was clenched tightly into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

"Ah, so that's your real motive for going. You're not trying to protect Harry, but you are going to keep the elf from interfering." Pallando drawled, following the Blue wizard with confident footsteps. "What are you going to do? Split them up? You've become quite cruel with age, dear Alantar, or should I say Regulus."

"It's necessary." The dark haired man bit out.

"Is it?"

"Yes it is!" Regulus shouted, spinning around before grabbing a hold of Pallando's cloak and forcefully pushing him up against hard stone. "Do you think I enjoy the thought of ruining Harry's happiness? That I'm looking forward to contributing to his death? He's my brother's Godson, for heaven's sake, that practically makes him my family!"

"I think," The other man calmly stated. "that you are so focused on what has been predicted that you are blind to any other possible solutions. You won't be able to live with this for the rest of your life, Regulus, he won't come back as the same boy we know, you do realize that don't you?"

"I do."

"Then you should allow him to be with the elf. Allow him to feel love, real love, during his remaining time alive. Dying lonely is the worst possible way to go, and if that happens I'm afraid he'll become hopeless and we'll lose him forever." Dark eyebrows furrowed as his brown eyes latched onto the grey of Regulus.

"We'll see." The Blue wizard said, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

The night was dark, not an ounce of stars could be seen and only the moon was out to illuminate the world. The moonlight hit his face, shining down on his skin through the thick glass window as Harry leaned against the cold stone wall beside the window. He had finally, with a lot of help from his dragon, managed to escape the watchful eyes of Legolas. The fact that he couldn't escape the blond's attention without the help of a large, threatening dragon standing between them was a testimony of how over the top Legolas was behaving. The elf was, more often than not, too overbearing, always hovering over him, always hanging around him like some overprotective mother. It was stressing him out.

That, accompanied by the fact that he was uncertain of their relationship, made it difficult for him to get sleep. Dark circles tainted the skin beneath his eyes. He hadn't gotten much sleep lately, his mind was taunting him, replaying his conversation with Legolas over and over again, as if to point out how idiotic it had been of him to open himself in such a way.

Perhaps if he had bothered to bring it up again and not let the subject drop he wouldn't have been so distraught by it. But there was this traitorous voice inside his head that always seemed to whisper that Legolas should have known better, the elf should have known how upset Harry would become. He knew how irrational the thought was, but the fact still remained that this was Harry's first serious relationship and he didn't know how to act nor how to portray the fact that Legolas had, indeed, hurt his feelings. He was an amateur within all things that could be regarded as romantic love and it truly terrified him to open himself and tell Legolas of how he was feeling a second time. The fear of the elf having the same reaction once again, rose within him each time he even considered talking to Legolas about it.

"So there you are." Calanon's voice came from behind him, drawing his attention and urging him to turn around. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Where's your brother?" Harry questioned, smiling as the elf moved to stand beside him.

"Packing, we're leaving tomorrow and true to himself Ainion decided to put off packing until the night before." Annoyance coated the male's voice.

"Ah, but Ainion wouldn't be himself if it wasn't for the constant hurry he is in, it's a part of his charm. You know that just as well as I do, my dear friend." Their shoulders bumped against each other.

"True." The elf admitted. "He wanted me to take you back to our rooms, said he had something to talk to you about."

"Any idea what about?" Harry asked as they moved away from the window and in the direction in which Calanon had come from.

"How should I know," The elf grunted, taking smaller steps in order to accommodate Harry's pace. "I'm just the messenger."

"Of course, how silly of me to think that your usually curious nature didn't take over and forced you to ask this time either." A smile, so wide that it looked unpleasantly false, ruined Harry's seemingly innocent façade.

"No, no. I won't ruin the surprise and have you running away from this." Calanon insisted, not at all caring that he had just revealed that he did, in fact, know what the younger elf wanted to talk to Harry about.

"So it's something I need to be weary about then." Harry stated, a smug, satisfied glint appearing in his eyes.

"Had you expected anything else? This is Ainion we are talking about, after all."

"Well I guess... No! You're right, it was a silly question."

"Indeed." They had arrived at a door now, its looks identical to the rest of the doors in the fortress, large, dark and made out of wood. A slender, yet strong hand moved towards its handle, grabbed a hold of it, pushed down and opened it, not at all bothered by the slight creak it made as it swung inwards.

"There you are!" Ainion's excited voice shouted at them the moment the two stepped inside the room. "Close the door, close the door and have a seat my darling Harry, it's time we two had the talk you should have had the moment you're situation was discovered."

"What do you mean situation?" Harry questioned, apprehension clear in his voice as he seated himself on one of the two soft beds that were situated in the room.

"Well, being the mate of an elf isn't something that happens to everyone, you know. There are bound to be things you don't understand and I've already seen how you're distancing yourself from Legolas. That's not healthy, neither for him or you."

"And you are an expert, are you?" Harry harshly snapped, not at all comfortable with the direction their conversation was headed for.

"As a matter of fact, I am. I already have someone at home, waiting for me." The elf replied, seemingly not bothered by the wizards verbal attack.

"You do?"

"Yes, a rather handsome elf, but we're not turning this around on me, Harry, this is about you and your own handsome elf. The two of you need to resolve your issues, and I'll make sure that happens before we leave tomorrow." Confidence rolled off of the man in waves as a bright smile developed on his face. "It's obvious that you're distressed. Your familliar's hostility towards Legolas only proves that your pain is caused by him."

"How so?"

"Because a familiar always acts according to its master's emotions."


	26. A Bunny Is A Bunny

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

* * *

_"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." - Ingrid Bergman, 1915-1982_

* * *

**Chapter 26:**

**A Bunny Is A Bunny**

It wasn't so much Ainion's words that bothered him, but rather the fact that he was right. What Harry was doing wasn't healthy. Burying his feelings, hiding them under a large rock, was the equivalent of destroying himself from the inside out. He was being a coward, running away from confrontations and putting them off to a later time. It was so unlike him, such an unusual thing for him to do that he had been forced to realize that he was driven by fear. Harry was afraid.

His friend's words of how his familiar reacted to his emotions had also been a wakeup call. The dragon, newly named Leroy, had been surprisingly aggressive towards Legolas from the moment they had met. He had always wondered why that was, but after his talk with Ainion it was glaringly obvious. Leroy had reacted to Harry's pent up feelings, he had expressed the emotions Harry hadn't allowed himself to show. In other words, not showing his emotions had caused more harm than good. It was, after all, far more hazardous to the elf's health being on the receiving end of a dragon's aggression than of a young man's.

The sound of flapping wings reached his ears alerting him of Leroy's presence in the pitch dark. The constant purring noises it was making filled the air. It was clear that the time spent inside had been too long for the creature and Harry felt guilty for it. Dragon's were creatures born to be in the air and because of the circumstances they were in there hadn't been a lot of opportunities for it to get some air. The Rohan people's obvious fear for it limited their options and it was only at night that he could take his familiar out for a walk. Understandably, Harry couldn't stay awake both at night and day so it was only natural that he couldn't take Leroy out every evening.

A gust of air hit the back of his head, messing up his hair and sending it flying in every direction. He turned around, staring straight into Leroy's red eyes and said, "What?"

A snort and a low growl was his response.

"No," he replied, lifting his right hand to drag it through Leroy's yellow mane. "We're not going any further than this, if you want some food you'll have to catch it from this area."

Another growl was issued.

Green eyes narrowed. "I don't care if the bunnies aren't as tasty here, a bunny is a bunny, no matter where you get it from."

He didn't like the mischievous glint that suddenly appeared in those red eyes. Not at all. With a roar, much louder than Harry would have appreciated, the dragon took off into the air and sent Harry what looked strangely similar to a mocking grin before flying away.

"Idiot." Harry muttered, turning his back on the dragon and walking back in the direction of Helm's Deep. All the while he was stifling the amused smile that wanted to burst out on his face. He had to admit that the dragon's antics were somewhat entertaining.

It was depressing how barren the land around Helm's Deep was. No trees or flowers could be seen, and only a couple of bushes accompanied the slightly yellow grass that was scattered around. It was no wonder that Théoden had wanted to move here instead of staying in Rohan. There were a lot less things to burn and destroy here. Of course, aside from that it had been an incredibly stupid move, they had practically cornered themselves and Harry thought it to be pure luck that they had actually won the battle. The many people that had been injured was a testimony of that.

He halted, green eyes widening as he took in the unexpected figure before him. Long blond hair fell straight downwards across broad shoulders and surrounding a smooth, soft looking jaw. A forest green tunic stretched across a strong chest and Harry could have sworn that each time that body moved he could see the muscles flexing beneath the skin. No matter how tentative he was about his relationship with the elf he could easily admit that the male was fit, delightfully so.

"You've been avoiding me." Legolas stated, his blue eyes narrowed in displeasure. "You've been running away from me. Why?"

"I...I haven't been-"

"Oh yes you have. Every time I come even remotely close to you you turn away and pretend as if you have something better to do. Every time I try to talk to you, to figure out what is wrong you shut me out and act as if everything is normal. You _are _avoiding me and now I want to know why." The elf took a step closer to him.

"I-" He cut himself off, looking away from the male in front of him before drawing a deep breath and steeling himself. "I've been distancing myself because I think we might be moving too fast."

"I see..."

"No, you don't. For you this has all been a piece cake. You've grown up knowing that you'd find a mate, you've always known that, but I haven't. It was thrown at me without any warning and I foolishly agreed to it before I was ready." A pink, wet appendage peeked out of his mouth in order to moisten his lips. "Where I come from it's normal that we have some time to get to know each other. We haven't had that chance. I don't know what you favourite colour is, how your family are or even what you like to do to pass time when you aren't in the middle of war. I want, no I need, to know you, _really_ know you before we can move any further."

"So you need time? Time to learn about me? Time to think things through?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then you'll have it." It was weird, seeing those eyes so dull and resigned and it almost seemed as if Legolas had given up any hope he might have had when Harry had uttered those three words that in another setting would have brought him great pleasure.

"Don't do that." He said, running a hand through his hair.

"Do what?"

"Don't go acting as if the whole world has just been snatched out from under you. I'm not saying that I'm leaving you, all I want is to get to know you a little bit better before we go any further." Harry stated while allowing a small, tender smile to show.

"Alright. You want time to think then I'll give it to you, starting now. When you're done going back and forth and have finally figured out what you want, seek me out."

"Wait— What?" Startled green eyes swivelled around to look at the elf.

"I am not about to torture myself by watching as you decide whether you want me or not! If you want us to be together then _you _will have to be the one to make the first move." Abruptly, Legolas turned his back on him and moved away from him at such a speed that Harry wasn't given the chance to respond.

It wasn't a nice feeling, watching as the elf moved away from him and Harry absent-mindedly wondered if this was how Legolas had felt all those times he had turned from him. He was left there feeling cold, alone and with a terrible guilt settling inside his chest. This wasn't what he had imagined when he decided that talking to Legolas about moving a little slower. He had thought that the elf would react like usual and do everything in his power to stay near him and win him back. He hadn't expected the elf to go along with his wishes and actually give him some time. Apparently, Harry had been wrong and Legolas had finally gotten enough.

The familiar fluttering of wings announced Leroy's return and it was only when a warm, wet tongue licked up the side of his face that he was brought out of his stupor. Pride and smugness rolled off of the dragon in waves as it lightly pushed its nose against Harry's chest before looking down. Following the creature's line of sight he realized exactly why Leroy seemed so proud of himself. There, on the ground, lay two bloodied bunnies, one with a broken neck and the other with two large puncture marks in its chest. It snorted through its nose, sending him a self-satisfied look before bowing down to the ground and grabbing a hold of the two unfortunate animals with its lethal teeth. Red, slitted eyes glowed with satisfaction and mockery as Leroy threw the two lifeless bodies into the air, catching them with his strong jaws and swallowing them whole.

"Oh shut it," Harry said, walking away from his familiar.

He didn't much feel like heading back to his bed so instead of walking straight towards the fortress he took a turn to the right and wandered towards a cling of large rocks he had caught sight of on the way out. The stars were out and he figured that it would be much more productive to gaze at them rather than lying in bed unable to sleep. Leroy's large, scaly body settled around him, serving as a shield against the cold breeze. Hours passed by and he was unable to resist as the heaviness of sleep finally settled in on him.

* * *

"It's not working." Harsh whispers penetrated his slumbering mind, waking him from his blissful sleep.

"Well try to shake him then."

"Oh," An annoyed voice spat back. "Well that should be easy, shouldn't it? What with a dragon coiled around him and all!"

"Then use a stick or something, Pippin! It can't be that hard!" A voice, now identified as Merry, replied.

"If it's that easy why don't you do it then, Merry?"

A large grin widened across his face as he opened his eyes and took in the two bickering hobbits. It had been a very long time since he had last seen them and in the stress of preparing for battle he hadn't really had the time to wonder where they had gotten to. Seeing them now, however, was a great relief. They were still alive and well by the looks of it.

"Alright," Merry said, pushing Pippin away as he grabbed a hold of a large, thick stick. "Step aside and see how the professionals do it, my fellow hobbit."

With his tongue sticking out of his mouth Merry began the complicated progress of reaching Harry with the stick without bumping into Leroy. A low rumble vibrated from his dragon's body and into his and it was when Harry saw how Leroy was baring his sharp, white teeth that he decided to intervene. If Leroy acted on his feelings then the dragon was bound to be grumpy in the morning. He didn't think the two mischievous hobbits could handle that.

"Is there a particular reason as to why you're playing with a stick, Merry?" He asked, sitting up while supporting himself on Leroy's warm body. "I can assure you, Leroy hasn't been trained into playing fetch."

He couldn't help the trilling laughter that escaped him as Merry immediately dropped the stick and ran behind Pippin as if he had done something extremely wrong.

"Oh really?" Pippin replied, a large grin on his face as he looked at the older hobbit behind him. "Who would have thought. It would have been a damned entertaining sight though."

"I can imagine." Gracefully, Harry extracted himself from Leroy's many limbs, climbing over his long body until he finally reached the ground. "Is there a reason why you've sought me out?"

"Yeah," Merry finally moved out from behind Pippin. "Gandalf sent us, said you wouldn't want to miss out on saying goodbye to those two elves of yours."

"They're leaving already? This early?" Astonished eyes swivelled around to take in the fortress.

Without waiting for an answer he turned back to Leroy and despite the loud growls shook him awake. He was too lazy and sleep hazed to run all the way back to Helm's Deep and so instead he seated himself across the dragon's back, took a hold of the horns and whispered into his ear, "If you fly me to the fortress I promise I'll take you to that forest you've been wanting to go to."

It didn't take more than that for Leroy to rise to his feet and shoot off into the sky. Hurriedly Harry pressed his body further against the dragon's back, his knuckles turning white due to the way he was clutching onto the horns. It was exhilarating to finally be up in the air again, to feel the wind whipping about him, to see the ground becoming smaller and smaller. Flying was something he had missed ever since he had arrived here in Middle-Earth and it really was a fantastic coincidence that his familiar had turned out to be a dragon.

It didn't take long for them to reach their destination and Harry felt strangely disappointed when his feet connected with the ground. He ignored the fearful gazes that were sent their way and with a pat on his back he allowed the dragon to once again take off. Although not before saying, "We've so got to do that again."

"A rather impressive entrance, Harry." Gandalf said as the young wizard moved closer towards the group.

"Thank you," He replied all the while sending a beaming grin towards the older man. "I do try."

Turning away from the wizard he faced the two departing elves, moving closer to them as he said, "You weren't planning to leave without saying goodbye did you?"

"Of course not," Calanon said, moving forward to draw Harry into a tight hug. "What do you take us for?"

"I'm really going to miss you." Harry whispered, burying his face into the elf's warm, cloth covered chest. "You and your idiotic brother."

The only reply he got was a slight tightening of the arms surrounding him before the elf released him and stepped back in order to make room for his younger brother. It was a very large difference by the way the two brothers said their goodbyes. Where Calanon was calm, collected and quiet Ainion was the total opposite so it came as no surprise to Harry as the enthusiastic elf drew him into a hug and planted a wet smooch right on his cheek.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us, my love?" A soft cheek with stubbles here and there rubbed against his very much like a purring cat would do. "I'm sure we would be much better company than this Fellowship of yours."

"I know I haven't told you this yet, but I really like you." The large lump in his throat testified to the fact that Harry really had a hard time holding back his tears.

"I like you too, Harry. You're the best wizard I've ever met." Another smooch was plastered on his face, this time on his forehead. "Now remember what I told you. No matter what you decide concerning you-know-what, make sure it's what you really want. I'd hate to see you miserable because you made the wrong choice."

"Don't worry about it." He reassured him, returning the smooch in a more modest form —a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can, but still, remember what I said." Slowly, Ainion let his arms drop down to his sides before taking a step back. A fond smile lingered on his face as he moved towards his brother and his horse. "I'm going to miss you, Harry, don't be a stranger and come visit us when all this is over, yeah?"

"Yeah."

It wasn't nearly as painful watching them ride away as he had thought it would be. He had expected to feel as if his heart was tearing apart, as if he had lost something important. But instead he felt rather serene. One could say that he was at peace with the two leaving. Still, no matter how calm and accepting he was of it he couldn't keep his eyes from welling up with tears.

A large, warm hand settled heavily on his right shoulder. "You'll see them again."

"I wouldn't bet on it." Harry replied, turning to look at Gandalf. "The chance of me surviving this war is as good as none."

And it was. Even if he wasn't killed by any of the enemy he would still have to take his own life and the prospect of him meeting Ainion and Calanon before this occurred was slim.

"You're being awfully pessimistic, Harry."

"Not pessimistic," He shot back. " Merely realistic, I know that I'm going to die sometime during this war. What use is it to live in denial and tell myself that I'll survive?"

"Hope, that's the use in it." Gandalf replied, grey eyes serious as he gazed at the young man before him. "As long as you have hope then there's a chance that you'll survive. Don't sell yourself short, Harry, you never know what you can achieve until you've tried."

"It doesn't matter whether I have hope or not." Harry stated walking away and keeping his eyes firmly averted as he passed Legolas. "No matter what I do I'll have to die and none of us can do anything about it. Don't push yourself, Gandalf, we both know that in that department I'm a lost cause."

"Harry James Potter!" The old wizard's voice deepened with fury. "Don't you dare turn your back on this."

Ignoring the other's words Harry continued walking, closing his eyes for a moment before suddenly jumping back. Green eyes snapped open in surprise as heat surrounded him. Red, hot flames closed in on him, making it impossible for him to move without burning himself. A loud roar could be heard in the distance, informing them that Leroy was aware of what had happened and that the dragon was furious. With small steps Harry turned around, looking straight into the wizard's grey eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Restraining you. It seems as if that's the only way I'm going to get you to talk with me." He replied, ignoring the rest of the Fellowship's incredulous looks.

The younger of the two didn't say anything in return. Only straightened up, crossed his arms over his chest and stared. The flames felt a little too hot for his comfort, not at all like his own which always seemed to calm him with their caresses. It felt so strange, so alien to be surrounded by a fire that wasn't his own and as a result he could feel his own flames licking at his insides, begging to be released.

A violent gust of wind nearly knocked him over and suddenly Leroy appeared before him, growling and baring his intimidating teeth at the elder wizard. A split second later and it attacked, flames leaking from its mouth as it lifted from the ground and flew straight at Gandalf.

"Leroy! No!" Harry shouted, stepping forward only to run into a wall of fire.

A loud, booming explosion, so strong that it nearly sent him flying was his only reply.

* * *

**A/N: **So yeah... changing the set up a little bit here. I would like to say some things both about this chapter and the ones to come in the future. Tetee77515 made me aware of the fact that the dragon sorely needed a name and so since I didn't have the patience to find the perfect name for the dragon this time we ended up with Leroy, my bunny's name. :D And coincidentally I looked up the name's meaning on the Internet and what do you know, the name's meaning was actually a little fitting. So dragon=Leroy=King. xD So moving on, I feel that this chapter is really important, tensions between Legolas and Harry is running high and we all know the drama that happened right at the end there. I feel that Harry is beginning to mature and I hope you do as well.

Anyway, I've decided that I won't be writing a graphic lemon in the later chapters. I was a little unsure of this at first, but I went to my beta for advice and as such the decision was made. The reason why is that I'm only 17 years old and I don't really feel that I have much knowledge nor experience with sex and though I know it's a natural part of every relationship I don't feel comfortable writing it. I'll probably write the beginnings of sex and then let it trail off in a way that's natural, but there won't be any explicit sex scenes here. I hope you aren't too disappointed by this!

Also, we're nearing 1000 reviews! I must say that when I started this story I really hadn't imagined that it would get so much positive response, I really am touched and I have to say thank you to all of you who have been patient and stayed with me through all of this! I appreciate you guys so much! :D

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You see this button here?

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Click it and help Leroy the dragon achieve world domination! (Insert evil laugh here)


	27. Contemplations

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
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**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
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**Warning: **...**  
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**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

**A/N: **To be honest I'm completely astonished by myself. I managed to finish this chapter in a day, one day! I have no idea how I managed to do it, but I found this new composer named Ludovico Einaudi who has these incredibly beautiful piano pieces and when I sat listening to them the words just flowed out of me. Incredible, I know. I find that music often helps me when I'm writing, it sets the mood and makes it so much easier for me to bring forth the words I want. So because of this if any of you know of any piano pieces that are nice to listen to while writing I would love it if you could tell me! :D

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

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_"The power of hiding ourselves from one another is mercifully given, for men are wild beasts, and would devour one another but for this protection." _- Henry Ward Beecher, 1813 - 1887

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**Chapter 27:**

**Contemplations  
**

Snarls, growls and deafening booms slashed through the air. Flames of all colours and smoke in different shapes surrounded the place Gandalf last had been standing. Green eyes, wide with shock, darted back and forth in a desperate attempt to see what was going on. Despite the surprising attack Gandalf's flames still surrounded him and kept him a prisoner.

He flinched as the sound of claws tearing into flesh drifted through the air and into his ears. Images of Leroy's lethal claws cutting into the older wizard appeared in his mind and he choked a whimper that was begging to come out. He hadn't meant for this to happen. Harry had never thought that Leroy would react so strongly and violently to his emotions. It had taken him completely by surprise.

A gust of wind flowed through the air, tugging at his hair and clothes and blowing away the thick, dark smoke. Large shapes came into view and when the smoke finally cleared Harry's pupils dilated in surprise. There, standing protectively in front of Gandalf was a large white fox encased in flames of all colours. Its teeth were bared in a threatening sneer while nine, large, fluffy tales swished back and forth in agitation. The fox was tense, standing in a rigid pose, its muscles flexed and moved under its thick fur and the fact that Harry could see it spoke exactly of how ready the fox was to defend its master.

The dragon seemed just as intimidating, if not more so with the three bloodied gashes running down his chest. Leroy stood there, his long body highly strung as it coiled around itself in a move that seemed almost impossible. A constant rumble of growls travelled through its chest, up its throat and through its open mouth. Scales shone in the sun and if it hadn't been for the situation they were in Harry would have admired them. As it was admiration would have to wait for another time when Leroy wasn't trying to kill one of Harry's friends.

"Leroy," He called, gaining the dragon's attention for a mere moment before its glowing eyes shifted straight back to glare at its opponent. "Get back here."

A snort and a quiet growl was his only answer as the dragon bared its lethal teeth.

"Get back here," He repeated, his voice having a steely undertone to it as he continued. "Or I swear that you'll never see that forest I promised to take you to."

The dragon hesitated, falling back slightly as its red eyes darted back and forth between Harry and the fox before emitting a pitiful whine and bounded over to its master. A large scaly head ducked through the flames that surrounded Harry, not at all affected by the heat of it, and nuzzled into the wizard's soft stomach.

"Good boy," Harry murmured as he stroked a hand through Leroy's mane.

Green eyes swivelled up to meet those of Gandalf and as if an unspoken agreement had been settled between them the older wizard's flames disappeared. Turning around Harry gazed at the many people that had gathered around them. Various faces were covered in fear, others in curiosity and even some in fascination. A scowl settled down on Harry's face as he pushed himself through the audience, hating the many stares pointed at his back. After the major incident during the battle all he had wanted to do was to blend into the background, the happenings that he had just gone through made sure that that would never be a possibility. At least not in Rohan.

He hurried his pace. Taking longer steps in order to get away from the staring crowd as fast as possible. He was well aware of the large dragon following right behind him, walking so close that he was nearly walking on-top of the lithe young man. Harry could literally feel the dragon's warm breath hitting his back.

"You know, if it weren't for the fact that it's probably my emotions you are reacting to I would have told you to learn how to control your temper." He commented, running a hand through his unruly hair, ruffling it even more as he turned the corner. Despite the fact that he had slept comfortably all through the night he felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to find a bed, create a nest and crawl into it and to never come out again. He wanted to disappear, to run away from the many things that were happening in his life.

A gentle shove against his back abruptly cut off his rapidly darkening thoughts. A reprimanding glare was sent his way as Leroy huffed, a small burst of flames leaking out of its mouth. It was clear that the dragon wasn't about to allow him to fall back in the trap he had caught himself in so many times. Leroy wouldn't let him run away, wouldn't let him drown himself in depressive thoughts. He supposed that was a good thing, that it would force him to face his problems and solve them. And he did have problems. He had problems with Legolas, with the whole war and the fact that he would have to kill himself within only a few months.

"It is rare to see a wizard in these parts, let alone two." A deep voice sounded from behind him, startling him with its suddenness.

Spinning around he took in the man. Blond hair, a shade darker than Legolas', fell to his shoulders, framing a raggedly handsome face and a pair of wide, brown eyes that he imagined had melted the hearts of many a maiden. A dark beard covered the man's chin in a way that Harry thought to be very much flattering. It was the nose that caught his attention though. It was straight, with just a little upturn at the tip. It looked exactly like another he had seen.

"You must be Èomer, Éowyn's brother." He stated, watching as the man's lips twitched for a moment as if he had to restrain himself from breaking the serious mask on his face in the form of a smile.

"Indeed," The man uttered, taking a step closer as his brown eyes shone with amusement. "And you must be the young wizard I have heard so much about. Harry was it?"

"Mhm," He nodded, gracing Éomer with a small smile.

"Well then, Harry," He said, offering his hand to the young wizard. "It is truly a pleasure to meet you. My sister speaks very fondly of you."

"I'm glad to meet you as well." Harry replied as he accepted the man's hand giving it a firm shake and a squeeze before letting go. He moved slightly backwards, a little uncomfortable with the close proximity of the other.

"I would certainly hope so." Éomer laughed, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. " I have to admit that I find you to be strangely fascinating, Harry. Your powers, your companion here," He motioned to Leroy. "It is all rather unexpected."

"What can I say, I like to astonish." Calculating green eyes scanned the man's face for any signs of what he was thinking. He wasn't sure what to think of the man, he seemed nice enough. He had the same personal traits as Éowyn had and he didn't look as if he had any ulterior moves. But there was this feeling Harry got from him. That it was good or bad he wasn't sure; but, it unnerved him.

"Yes," The man ran a large, calloused hand through his beard, caressing his jaw in a thoughtful way. "A rather nice trait to have, if you ask me. Very nice."

"Thank you."

"Oh, no need to thank, it is the truth after all." This time Éomer didn't seem able to keep the smile from erupting on his face and Harry had the pleasure of seeing a very familiar quirk of the lips on a not so familiar face.

"Ah," He said, an awkward silence settling between them as he didn't know quite what to say back. He shifted uncomfortably, squirming under the man's heated gaze. A familiar glint appeared in Éomer's eyes, reminding him slightly of the heated stares Legolas had sent him. A sudden urge to get out of there welled up inside him and, for once, Harry wisely took it into account and moved closer to Leroy and further from Éomer.

"As nice as it was to meet you I'm afraid I'll have to leave you here. You know, things to do and people to see." He nervously rubbed at the back of his neck, sending Éomer a hesitant smile.

"Of course, I didn't mean to hold you from your duties." The man took a step to the side and motioned with a hand for Harry to move past him. "I hope to see you again, Harry. Under different circumstances, naturally. I would very much like to talk more with you."

"Likewise." Harry replied as he moved away from him, giving one last wave before he turned the corner.

He needed to vent, he decided and took a turn to the left and headed towards one of the fortress' towers. Harry easily climbed up the cold, stone stairs, Leroy following him as a shadow. He took a deep breath of fresh air when he had reached the top, closing his eyes for a split second before motioning for the dragon to bow down in front of him. Gracefully he swung himself onto Leroy's strong back, feeling the many muscles under the scales as he ran a gentle hand down the dragon's throat. His thighs clenched, gripping the creature's body tightly as he flattened himself down against the dragon, grabbed a hold of his horns and quietly urged him to take off.

He felt the familiar sensation of wind rushing past him, surrounding him on all sides as Leroy accelerated, moving through the sky as if the current of air offered no resistance. He looked down to the ground, watching as the crowd he had previously been a part of pointed at them. He could even hear Gimli shouting at him to come back. They didn't turn around though. Harry knew that should he ever have a chance to figure out the mess that occupied his mind then he had to be away from people, he had to shield himself from the opinions of others. No matter how well they meant.

Quickly the ground passed by under them as they travelled further and further away from Helm's Deep. The tension in his neck and shoulders lightened and he felt as if he could finally breathe properly again. He closed his eyes in relish and buried his face into Leroy's mane, smelling the smoky, yet spicy scent that lingered in the hairs. Leroy truly was a creature made up of flames. His whole being radiated with it. His red eyes seemed to be the colour of molten lava, his temperament matched the element perfectly and, as he had just found out, even the dragon's scent complimented the fire.

A softly uttered purr rumbled through the powerful body beneath him, vibrating through him in turn. They were both pleased, they were both relishing the feel of being in the air and Harry was sure that it wasn't just because of his feelings that Leroy was reacting as he was. This was their combined feelings of joy.

Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach as Leroy abruptly dived down towards the ground, straightening up only a few meters from the hard land. Breathless laughter rolled out of his throat in waves as he tightened his grip on the dragon in delight. It had felt just like a Wronski feint. The same thrilling feeling had rushed through him and he was left just as breathless with his limbs trembling from the adrenaline and excitement. He allowed a cry of exhilaration to escape him as Leroy repeated the move, though this time right over a large lake. The water sprayed all around them when the dragon let his tail drag along behind them in the water. And it was so refreshing and such a new experience that Harry could immediately feel some of his worries let go. It was a relief.

They didn't fly for much longer before they reached a promising clearing. It had just about enough coverage to hide from any potential orc or even the rain. The lake they had been just fly across was at such a distance that he wouldn't be bothered by any potential animals that came to it but still close enough for him to get some water. It would do for the time he needed to come to a decision.

* * *

"Let him go." Gandalf finally said when Gimli was done shouting.

"Wh-What?" The dwarf shouted, spinning around to look at the old wizard. "Let him go? It's dangerous out there, he could be killed."

"He's got his familiar with him, he'll be fine." The grey haired man answered, waving his hand for a moment as the large fox disappeared. "Harry's got a lot of things on his mind and he's confused by them. We should allow him some time to gather his thoughts and figure this out."

"I'm surprised that you've got so little to say in this matter, Legolas" Gimli gruffly commented, turning to the elf for support.

"He's his own person," Legolas replied, still looking at the direction in which Harry had disappeared. "He doesn't need me to watch over him all the time."

Brown eyes widened while astonishment erupted on the dwarf's face. A frown pulled chapped lips downwards and the male took a small step towards the blond elf. "Has something happened between the two of you? Something we don't know about?"

"One could say that." Legolas offered lightly, shrugging as he looked away from the sky, "Though it's nothing you should worry about, it'll be settled soon. I'm sure."

"Right," Gandalf cut in before Gimli could pry even more out of the elf. " There's no need to worry, Harry will come back to us when he's ready. Which I'm sure will be soon. What we do have to think about right now is packing as it's time we headed back to Edoras. Aragorn, I trust you to pack and take care of Harry's things for him."

"Of course." The man replied, walking up to Legolas before he placed a comforting hand on the elf's shoulder. "How much time do we have?"

"Oh, I think I'll manage to press Théoden into leaving the day after tomorrow or even as soon as tomorrow." The wizard replied with an amused smile on his wrinkly face.

"I'm sure you'll do. We'll be ready by tomorrow then." Aragorn said.

"Good, good." Gandalf commented before turning towards the company's elf. "And Legolas, there's no need to worry, I'm absolutely certain that everything will turn out as they should be. Your mate is a clever young man, he'll come to the right decision."

"Thank you." The elf responded, a little more reserved than the frank wizard.

"Well then," A large smile spread across Gandalf's face as he ran a hand through his beard. "Shall we get going?"

* * *

Four days had passed by and he still hadn't reached a conclusion. The night had settled and he was, just as he had been the previous night, surrounded by Leroy's body. He had spent the whole day thinking, sitting in the shadow of a tree he had found most inviting and had come to the decision that he needed more time. Deciding whether or not he was to seriously commit himself to Legolas was a life-changing decision and he figured that it was better to take his time rather than regret his decision at a later time. When he delivered his answer to Legolas it was to be the final one and he could have no regrets: none whatsoever. The things that had happened last time were not to occur now. Harry wouldn't rush into this without knowing what he was going into, he was to be fully aware of his decision and the consequences that accompanied it.

He snuggled further into Leroy's warm body, closing his eyes in bliss. He had been weighing the pros and cons ever since he had eaten dinner and so far it seemed as if the pros far outweighed the cons. A life with Legolas would mean a life full of happiness, a life with the elf meant that Harry would never have to go around worrying about never finding the one, it would mean that Harry wouldn't go back to the world that demanded so much from him, to his family that hated him and to a killer that was after his life. A life with Legolas did, however, also mean that he would grow old and watch as Legolas stayed youthful while he became grey, wrinkly and finally died. It was the last one that had him hesitating. Could he truly stand to be with someone that would stay forever young? Could he truly be with Legolas knowing that the elf would have to watch as Harry crumbled and wilted? He didn't know. At least not yet.

Leroy's soft snores filled the air, signalling the dragon's departure from consciousness and into the peaceful realm of unconsciousness. The creature had spent the whole day flying about, playing, hunting and doing all the things it hadn't gotten the chance to do when coped up in Helm's Deep. It had been a delight to watch as Leroy turned from a moody monster and into a playful, nearly childlike, animal. The freedom and fresh air truly seemed to do the dragon good and Harry vowed that he would make sure that Leroy got to repeat this action as often as he could.

Harry, unlike the dragon, didn't have an easy time falling asleep though. His mind was stuffed with thoughts, thoughts that whirled around and woke him every time he got near the edge of sleep. It was tiresome. And he found that he couldn't get a single wink of sleep throughout the night. When the sun rose he rose with it, deciding to take a walk to the lake and catch himself some fish for breakfast. It didn't take long, his stay with the Fellowship had honed his fishing skills and he came back to the clearing with a small fish, perfectly sized for a fulfilling meal.

He lit a fire, roasted it and ate all before Leroy awoke. And when the dragon finally did wake the sun was high in the sky and Harry was already seated underneath the same tree he had been sitting under yesterday. Leroy shook his massive body before stretching and taking off into the sky, flying in circles around Harry for a moment before he flew higher and disappeared from his view. The young wizard wasn't worried, Leroy never went too far and always stayed in such a distance that he could hear it when Harry called. And so he was left in peace to sort out his mind.

He had easily settled his doubts about the whole killing himself issue. He would go through with it, make it look like he had died by the hands of the enemy and not tell any of those in the Fellowship. Putting such a burden on their shoulders wasn't fair to them and though not telling them at all wasn't very fair either he found that he had chosen the lesser of two evils. He had also decided that he would wait to choose whether or not he was to stay in Middle-Earth when the choice came. Things could change after all and it wasn't right to decide before he even was in the situation. No, concerning that he would analyse things as they were happening and make a move based on that analysis. All that remained now was his dilemma with Legolas.

He liked him, he really did, he enjoyed being in his company, enjoyed the smiles, heated stares and those few moments they had alone and still he was unsure. Maybe it was because of their argument, maybe it was because of himself, his own mind and his fears. He wasn't certain. All he knew was that at some point things had happened too fast and he had been startled, scared and had immediately retreated. Almost as if some sort of protective mechanism had been awoken within him and taken over. Harry had been taken completely by surprise and as such had been overwhelmed and unable to stomp that mechanism down. And that was where everything had gone wrong. Harry's inability to control himself when faced with Legolas' love had been the thing that had made everything fall into ruins and in some ways he found it to be a blessing in disguise. If it wasn't for it he wouldn't even have been sitting there, under the tree thinking things over. He would have rushed into things and perhaps even been mated to Legolas by now.

He could easily see what a mistake that would have been. Harry had learned from experience that rushing into things lead to regrets and regrets were always something he strived to avoid.

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath, feeling his chest moving up and down as he relaxed into the tree. He stayed that way for a while, ten minutes perhaps twenty, before green eyes suddenly shot open and he called out, "Leroy!"

A responding roar resonated through the air as the dragon flew towards him at a great speed, the dirt on the ground whirled up in a mini tornado as Leroy landed, his four, muscular legs taking the brunt of it. Questioning red eyes traced Harry's form before connecting with Harry's a silent communication passed between them. Leroy bared his teeth in a lipless grin as he moved towards the wizard and bowed down, patiently waiting for Harry to settle down on his back.

Harry in turn easily swung onto the creature, automatically grabbing a hold on its horns and pressing his thighs against its sides. They were more used to each other now, more comfortable with each others' presence and as such it affected their relationship, in a good way.

"Let's go back, shall we?" Harry whispered into Leroy's ear, grinning at the approving purr uttered by the dragon as it took off, gracefully twisting and turning in the sky all the while making sure that Harry wouldn't fall off.

They flew over the lake, the treetops and the barren wasteland until they finally reached the familiar sight of Helm's Deep. It was strangely empty and the moment they landed Harry immediately walked towards his room, taking in the lifeless halls before narrowing in on the note fastened to his door. He easily took it down, unfolding it. Green eyes darted back and forth as he read the words written in a beautiful handwriting. It would seem that Éowyn had taken on the task of alerting him as to where they had gone to and a small smile lingered on his face as he folded the note before stuffing it into his pocket being very careful not to crumble or rip it.

Without another look back he headed back outside, mounted Leroy and whispered their destination into his ear. The ground passed by in a blur and Harry found that the trip back to Edoras was much less tiresome on a dragon's back in the air than it had been on that of a horse on the ground; much more effective as well. It only took them a day before they had reached their destination, a large improvement from the six days it had taken them to get to Helm's Deep. Of course, if it hadn't been for Aragorn and Harry's tumble into the waters the trip would have been over much faster, but some things it seemed were unavoidable.

He was greeted by a large group of enthusiastic children when they finally landed. They surrounded him and Leroy on all edges and with one warning look at the dragon he left him there at the mercy of the kids. He swiftly moved through the town, not stalling as he practically ran up towards Meduseld. He sprinted up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and only halted when he was at the top. Harry waited for a moment, catching his breath before walking more calmly forwards and pushed the heavy, wooden doors wide open.

The sight he was faced with certainly wasn't the one he had expected and his mouth dropped open in astonishment. "What on earth is going on here?"

The two glaring men accompanied by the onlookers turned towards Harry in surprise. Harry in turn continued to stare at Legolas and Éomer, taking in the way Legolas was holding the man by the collar of his shirt. By the way the elf's muscles trembled and flexed he could see that Legolas was on the brink of punching the living daylights out of the man of Rohan. Hurriedly Harry moved forward, grabbing a hold of Legolas' hands and lightly tugging him back and away from Éomer.

"Honestly," He said, turning towards the rest of the Fellowship. "I can't leave you for four days without you turning everything into chaos!"

"How lovely it is to see you and your cheery countenance, Harry." Gandalf stepped forward, opening his arms wide as a large grin showed on his face.

"Oh please, Gandalf, don't try that with me. You know just as well as I do that I won't buy it." He snapped, still holding onto the elf.

"Of course, but a man is allowed to try, isn't he?" The wizard replied, lowering his arms.

"Yes, yes. Now what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing." Gandalf insisted, moving so that he stood between Éomer and the elf and Harry. "Just a small quarrel turning a little heated that's all, nothing worthy of your concern, Harry."

"Well I didn't have any other choice than to butt in, did I? It certainly didn't look as if you were about to intervene. If I know you right, which I do, you would have let them bang loose on each other." He wryly said, looking at the wizard with amusement rather than irritation as he had earlier.

"Why, I'm astonished! You portray me as if I'm the sort of person to enjoy such things!" The older male burst out, holding his hand in front of his mouth in a show of mock surprise and hurt. "You know just as well as I do that I am a cultivated person, I do not take pleasure in two grown men rolling on the floor, throwing punches at each other."

"So you say." Harry said in a non-committal manner.

"Indeed." Gandalf replied before suddenly storming towards Harry and drawing him into a crushing hug. "I've missed you my dear, dear Harry!"

A snort sounded from somewhere behind them and he could distinctly hear Gimli say, "Wizards, I'll never understand them. One moment they're bickering and in the next they are behaving so affectionate that it's nearly sickening."

* * *

**In a land far, far away there was a giant troll**

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	28. Did You Feel That?

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **There is some blood in this one so if your sensitive to this you might want to skip a few places.**  
**

** Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

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_"Die when I may, I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow." _- Abraham Lincoln, 1809 - 1865

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**Chapter 28:**

**Did You Feel That?  
**

Fear and desperation gripped him. Green eyes darted back and forth in a frantic attempt to see whatever was chasing him. He panted, barely managing to get any oxygen into his lungs as he pressed himself closer to Leroy's scaly body, following the dragon's movements as if they were one. Rain dropped down, hitting his face like millions of small whiplashes as he and Leroy accelerated through the air. Blood trailed down his chin, dripping from his lip where he had bitten it. Pain travelled through him in constant and unrelenting waves as another trail of blood ran down from his ears, covering his neck in a river of the life sustaining liquid. He wanted to cry, to scream. They were chasing him, inexhaustibly they were chasing him.

No matter where he went, no matter how complicated the manoeuvres Leroy used to shake them off, they still wouldn't relent. Ear-piercing shrieks could be heard from a long distance and he winced each time they hit his ears. He hunched over, reaching up with his left hand in order to clutch at his shoulder, keeping pressure on it in order to stop the constant flow of blood leaking from the wound. He was in a bad shape: beaten, wounded and bloody. And he wanted nothing more than to give in to the dark embrace of unconsciousness that was calling out to him.

Tightening the grip his thighs had on the dragon, he released the hold he had on Leroy's neck before swiftly reaching down and ripping a piece of his shirt off. Gritting his teeth together so hard that it was a wonder they weren't turned into dust, he used both his mouth and his left hand to tightly tie the strip of fabric around the wound. With both of his arms finally free he leaned forward even further, pressing himself as tightly as he could against Leroy, leaving no space between them. He turned around for a moment searching for any sign of his pursuers. Two dark spots could be seen behind him and his pupils shrunk in fear. If they caught him he would be dead, or even worse, he would tortured to reveal all he knew thus betraying the Fellowship.

"Faster," He fiercely whispered into Leroy's pointed ear. "They're closing in on us!"

With a roar Leroy shot forth, its muscles flexing like mad under the thick scales as its long body moved up and down in wave-like movements. Sitting up a bit straighter, Harry twisted around and took a deep breath before summoning forth a large ball of fire. He took aim, waiting for just the right moment. A calculating glint appeared in his eyes as he pressed his knees against Leroy's sides, raising himself before throwing the ball of fire with all his might. He immediately turned around, once again pressing himself against his dragon in order to lower the air resistance.

An enraged shriek could be heard from behind them and Harry smiled in triumph knowing that at least one of his targets had been hit. Though that smile was immediately wiped off as Leroy suddenly took an unexpected dive. A startled cry escaped his throat and he tightened his grasp on the dragon as they flew straight into a forest, twisting, turning and manoeuvring around the many thick trees. The wind harshly whipped by them, ruffling his hair and sending some hair flying in his face, lashing the skin there. He could hear the sound of branches breaking coming steadily closer and realized that though the witch-king's beast was so large its strength made it easy for it to break any branches that came in its way.

"Fuck, fuck fuck!" He cried in dismay, turning to look over his shoulder and cursed even more as he saw how close his chaser had come. "Why the bloody hell can't he just give up?"

He fired another fireball, wincing as it hit a tree, the flames immediately eating away at the wood, and missed the target. Not for the first time during their chase did he curse the fact that his wand had been broken. At least with that he would have been able to diversify his attacks and maybe even take the witch-king by surprise. A new glint of hope welled up in him however as a large lake came within view.

"You know how to swim right?" He questioned the creature he was riding on.

An affirmative growl was his reply.

Grinning, he looked over his shoulder once again. "Then dive."

He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes right before ice cold water washed over him. His wounds stung as the water hit them and he barely managed to keep his mouth from opening in order to yell out. Carefully he opened his eyes, taking in the life underwater and watched as a couple of fishes swam calmly past them as if seeing a dragon and its rider was a perfectly normal sight. Clinging to Leroy he looked up at the surface, seeing a large shadow lingering right over the place they were. With a light nudge he urged Leroy into speeding up, swimming faster and faster through the water until they were moving so fast that they were just a blur. His lungs were burning, screaming out for air and he realized that they couldn't stay hidden in the water forever. With one final nudge Leroy returned to the surface, bursting out of the water with great speed as he once again rose up into the air. Dark hair plastered itself against his forehead and he had to reach up and wipe it away in order to clear his sight.

Another shriek rang in the air signifying the fact that the witch-king was hot on their tail. They were both tiring. Leroy was panting heavily, finally beginning to feel the strain of carrying Harry while at the same time flying at top speed and doing all the manoeuvring needed to avoid the large beast flying after them. The sound of large wings flapping reached him and he allowed a terrified scream to tear through his throat as they barely managed to avoid the crunching snap of large, horrifying jaws. His breath hitched as they suddenly lunged downwards, nearing the ground at an alarming speed.

He turned around taking in the way the nazgûl was following right on their tail. Once again they dived into a forest, this one with thicker vegetation. Harry leaned to the right, left, ducked and jumped every time a tree branch came in the way. His muscles were howling in agony and drop after drop of sweat ran down his temple, down his neck and under the covers of his shirt. He was thankful that Leroy was a Chinese dragon and not a European one, his slim, long body made for a swifter and more agile escape. And if such an escape was ever needed it was now. The witch-king's beast had many advantages over them, its strength, its size and its large wingspan all outclassed Leroy's. And so Leroy's speed and manoeuvrability was crucial for their continued survival.

Green eyes narrowed, nearly turning into slits as the chase continued.

* * *

"It's good to see you alive and kicking, Gandalf." Harry said as he drew away from the wizard before sending Gimli an amused glance. "It's good to see all of you, actually."

"Of course it is." The dwarf burst out, leaning against a wall. "We are good company. It's always nice to see good company."

"Indeed it is." Aragorn agreed stepping forward and grabbed a hold of Harry by his shoulders as he drew him into a quick embrace. "It's good to see you as well, Harry. I hope you've solved whatever it was that was bothering you?"

"It's all as it should be now." Harry smiled back, looking meaningfully at Legolas as he did so.

"You mean?" The elf questioned, taking a small, hesitant step forward as his blue eyes lit up with a tiny glint of hope.

"Later," He said, barely able to keep a large grin from showing. "We'll talk later."

He was happy, blissfully so. It was nice finally being back with the Fellowship again. Those four days he had spent away from them had put things in perspective and he had decided not to part from them ever again unless it was absolutely necessary. He would enjoy his time with them, would cherish them and create as much memories as possible with them before he would be forced to leave them and return to his own world. Harry had come to the decision that while staying in Middle-Earth he would live life to its fullest and have no regrets whatsoever. He had finally made up his mind and there was no changing it.

"I'm glad to see you, Harry." Théoden suddenly spoke up with a smile on his face, rising from his seat at the centre of the hall in order to move closer to him. "Éomer said you looked quite distraught when he last saw you, I was beginning to worry when you didn't return."

"Thank you for the concern, King Théoden, but as you can see I'm perfectly well." Harry replied, giving a shallow bow.

"Yes, indeed you are." The king said, musingly stroking his hand over his jaw in a move astonishingly similar to what Éomer had done.

"Well then," Gandalf said. "Now that the hellos are in order perhaps we should allow Harry some rest? I'm sure Legolas wouldn't mind showing you your room. I'm afraid the rest of us are quite busy."

"Busy?" A bewildered Gimli asked, grunting as a white staff shot forth out of nowhere, hitting him in the stomach. "Oh yes! Busy, doing that...that...thing."

Green eyes shone in amusement, watching as the dwarf seemingly deflated. Gimli had never really been a good liar, he concluded. The way his eyes nervously darted back and forth, the anxious wringing of his hands and the fact that he couldn't seem to look Harry straight in his eyes all betrayed him and revealed the lie for exactly what it was.

"Exactly." Gandalf triumphantly said, acting as if Gimli's clumsy attempt at a lie had been nothing but the complete and utter truth. "We've got to do the thing so off you go, we can't have you in our way!"

With a dramatic shooing motion both Harry and Legolas was pushed through the door and out of the room. The minute they were out the doors were slammed closed and the sound of a key being turned alerted them to the fact that the lock had been turned.

"They aren't particularly subtle, are they?" Harry said, shifting slightly in order to get a better look at the elf.

"I'm afraid that subtlety isn't a skill they possess, no." Legolas replied, offering the younger man his elbow and waited until Harry had taken said elbow before beginning to move in the direction of the wizard's room.

"I'm sorry it took so long." Harry said as they turned a corner, squeezing the other male's arm as he glanced at him in order to observe his facial expression. "I didn't mean for it to take such time, but I found that there was more than one thing I had to think about."

A pleased look appeared on the blonde's face for a moment as he guided Harry around another corner. He didn't say anything though, instead he looked down at the wizard with an inquiring look as if to say 'well, go on'.

He stopped, extracting his arm from Legolas' in order to face the elf properly. "I think I might love you...and if not I'm sure as hell on the way to loving you."

"You think?" A calloused hand gently came up to his face, settling against his cheek before caressing the skin there with a thumb.

"I can't be sure." He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. "I don't really know how to tell."

"I shouldn't have ignored you." The elf suddenly confessed, tracing invisible patterns on his skin. "I shouldn't have ignored your worries. They weren't what I wanted to hear and so I acted as if I hadn't heard them. It was childish of me and I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Harry breathed, a shiver trailing down his spine as it always did when the elf's warm breath rolled over his skin. "I forgave you some while ago."

As fast as lighting his right hand was seized and immediately brought up to a pair of soft, waiting lips. A small tingle of electricity sparked in his body and he hummed as those lips trailed up to linger on the inside of his wrist, a small hint of a soft, warm and wet tongue peeking out to taste the skin there. "Then let me help you straighten out your feelings. Does this affect you?"

"Yes." He replied in a quiet voice.

"And this?" The lips trailed up to settle against his neck, lingering there for a short moment and he closed his eyes as Legolas' hot breath tickled his skin.

"Mhm."

"How about this?" A hand grabbed a hold of his jaw, holding his face in place. "Open your eyes, Harry."

He did. Green connected with blue and suddenly those lips connected with his own, brushing back and forth and Harry had to fight to keep looking into the elf's eyes as pleasure registered in his mind. The kiss didn't last long, and it wasn't as passionate as some of the others they had shared, but there was something about staring into Legolas' eyes while kissing him that was so intense. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that it was a new experience or perhaps it was the pure, unadulterated love that he could see shining into those blue orbs. He didn't know. All he knew was that the warmth spreading through his chest felt heavenly.

"Did you feel that?" The elf whispered, rubbing his thumb across Harry's plump lower lip.

"Yeah." Harry breathed in a dazed sort of way.

"Good." And Harry's senses, his whole world and being was filled only with the taste, the feel and the sight of Legolas.

* * *

A messenger, a mere messenger that was what he had been turned into by Gandalf. He had been given a note and been told to deliver it to the Ent named Treebeard. Had he known what an Ent was he supposed it wouldn't have been much of a big deal. But as it was he didn't know what it was. Gandalf hadn't seen fit to tell him, nor had any of the others and so he was left on his own with only a book he had brought with him from Edoras to help him identify Treebeard. At times Gandalf's forgetfulness truly got on his nerves and he could honestly say that this was one of those moments.

"You see any ents down there?" He called out to Leroy, bowing forward in order to scrutinize the ground to an even further degree.

His eyes narrowed, looking for any kind of life down on the ground. A small rustle of leaves to his right caught his attention and with a slight tug on the dragon's mane he urged him to move towards it, weaving in through the trees before landing securely on the ground. With a critical gaze he scanned his surroundings, coming to a stop on a strange looking tree. A pair of yellow eyes situated in a face made out of bark stared at him unblinkingly, taking in every single detail about his appearance. He felt as if his body was pried open and bared to the being in front of him, his soul was on show and he felt uncomfortable because of it.

"Um..." He hesitated, staying on Leroy's back just in case this wasn't the one he was looking for and they would have to run. "You don't happen to be an Ent, do you?"

The sound of tree creaking filled the air as the creature shifted, taking a step closer. A beard made out of moss swung back and forth as the being moved its root like feet forward.

"An Ent?" A deep voice rumbled, drawing out the words in an incredibly slow manner. "Yes, I am an Ent."

"An Ent named Treebeard?" He once again questioned, cautiously moving down from Leroy's secure back.

"Yes," The Ent breathed. "Treebeard is what I am called."

"Then I've got something for you." Now more secure in the knowledge that this was indeed the one he had been looking for, Harry swiftly moved towards him, reaching into his shirt before drawing out Gandalf's note. "Gandalf the White told me to give you this."

"Gandalf the White you say?" The Ent replied as he reached down for the white, folded paper, his yellowish eyes darting back and forth as he opened the note to reveal the writing there.

Silence spread between them, only broken by the occasional rumble from Treebeard. A cold gust of wind swept through the forest, messing up his hair, ruffling his clothes and sending a shiver down his spine. Leroy's presence suddenly appeared at his back and without thinking much he allowed himself to fall slightly backwards, connecting with the dragon's body and leaning against its warmth. He could feel Leroy drawing a deep breath before releasing it in a long sigh, small trails of flames escaped the dragon's breath and Harry looked around in order to make sure that none of the trees caught on fire. They didn't.

"I have much to do, it seems." Treebeard breathed, pausing after each word, drawing out the usually short sentence. "Many to wake, many to heal and much filth to wash away."

"Then I believe it's in order for me to allow you to begin and not keep you away from your tasks." Harry exclaimed, jumping on top of Leroy in a graceful move.

"Oh no, no, my little dragon rider." The Ent objected, reaching out and grabbing a hold of Harry with one of his bark covered hands. "You are to sleep, to rest."

"But-"

"No protests now," Treebeard said, walking deeper into the forest, Leroy walking calmly behind him. "Sleep and rest is what you need thus it is what you will get."

It didn't take long for them to reach a nice looking clearing. Gently, he was put down on the moss covered ground. "Sleep, little wizard."

And no matter how much Harry resisted he found that his eyes became heavy, drooping with drowsiness until finally they were covered by his eyelids and his consciousness was cradled in the warm embrace of oblivion.

He couldn't have slept for more than a few hours for when he woke up the stun still hadn't gone down and, with the exception of a couple of dark looking clouds hovering in the sky, nothing much had changed. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, rubbing the last lingering signs of sleep from his eyes and stretched. Like a cat he arched his back, closing his eyes as a few popping sounds could be heard. He relaxed, allowing himself to fall back against the soft ground.

A small drop of rain hit his forehead, running down his nose and dripping off the tip.

"It is time for your departure, little wizard." Treebeard's deep voice rumbled from behind him.

"I believe it is." Harry declared, jumping onto Leroy's back in a now well practised move.

And that was the main events that had led up to the unexpected situation he now found himself to be in. The horrible, frightening and nerve-wrecking situation that was worthy of him pissing himself. When looking at his pursuers, the nazgûl, he was very much reminded of his worst nightmare, dementors. Their dark, tattered robes seemed to be the exact replica of the ones the dementors wore. The chilling feeling that seemed to emit from them in waves was also another thing they had in common. And each time the nazgûl came close to him he half expected to feel the painful tugging of them sucking his soul out.

Drawing a deep breath he let go of Leroy's neck, lifting his right hand up to his mouth before blowing into it. A large, blue flame was birthed, growing with each breath of air Harry fed it. Breath after breath and finally the result was a giant ball of fire that had to be held between two hands. He lifted it over his head and turned around. Green eyes darted about, trying to spot his remaining pursuers. The fire hissed and sizzled as the raindrops hit it, and Harry had to force even more magic in it in order to keep it from dying out. He stalled, waiting for the witch-king to move into the exact perfect position. A few minutes passed by and sweat was starting to roll down his face, barely noticeable, however, as it mixed with the rain water. His arms were shaking with the effort and strength it took him to continuously keeping the fire ball up in the air. His thighs were trembling, crying out each time Leroy took a turn, which was quite often, and he had to follow his movements.

A shriek, one of the many he had heard while being chased, pierced through the air. With a great shove Harry threw the ball towards the nazgûl, watching in anticipation as the fire drew nearer and nearer to its target. A loud whimper tore through his throat and his mouth dropped open when the beast the witch-king was riding on swallowed the whole fire ball in one mouthful.

Panic welled up inside him and he quickly spun around, eyes wide as he buried himself against Leroy. It wasn't working, none of his attempts at attacking the nazgûl had worked. He felt helplessly pathetic and useless. His weapons had been discarded from his person early on in the chase and his flames had been his only defence, it was now clear that they wouldn't work and the only thing keeping him from being killed was now Leroy's flying skills.

An excruciating pain suddenly travelled through his very being and he screamed, cursed and damned whoever that had created such creatures as two, sharp claws dug into his back. The skin broke, red and dark blood gushing forth. Leroy echoed his pain, howling and trashing about as some of Harry's pain flowed into the dragon. They fell, hitting twigs and branches as Leroy's wings, due to the pain, gave out on them. Talons were wrenched out of his back, ripping with it some of Harry's flesh.

Gravity showed no mercy, dragging them down, down, down and down. The wind whipped about them, blowing away Harry's pained tears. His breath came in gasps, only to be knocked out of him as they hit the ground with a sickening thud. He uttered no sound. He was incapable of it. So great was his pain. The green grass under them became stained in Harry's blood and it didn't take long before he was lying in a pool of it.

He could feel the vibrations in the ground when the nazgûl landed. Heavy footsteps approached him and he choked on his own blood as he tried to breathe deeper, to say something. Gurgling sounds escaped him. Something inside of him was definitely broken.

"Such a disappointment." A thin, hissing voice exclaimed with a hint of surprise to it. "I had expected you to become more since I last saw you. You were so promising then."

An agitated growl came from Leroy. Harry moved his head, moving to look at the dragon, taking in its bared teeth and the look in his eyes that were promising death and torture as soon as he recovered.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have saved you that day, perhaps I should have let that orc drive its sword through you." The witch-king contemplated, drawing Harry's full attention back on himself as he continued. "Maybe you were a waste of time. I do wonder, however, if perhaps under the right guidance you could reach your full potential."

A steel covered hand grasped his chin, tilting his head backwards so he came face to face with what should have been the witch-king's face, but was darkness instead. "Do you remember? A black arrow whizzing past your ear, piercing the orc about to attack you from behind? You were so precious, not yet shaped and so incredibly tempting. Your stay with the Blue wizard ruined that, ruined you."

"Yes," He murmured, talking to himself as he tilted Harry's head from side to side, his thumb rubbing against his skin in a mock caress. "why not? Maybe I should take you with me now and repair the damage that has been done to you."

The witch-king's winged beast let out a shriek, the sound ringing in Harry's ears. He winced as the trail of dried blood running from his ears was replaced by a slightly smaller and fresh one. It was a wonder that he wasn't deaf yet.

"Quiet!" The nazgûl commanded, still not looking away from his study of the young wizard.

A displeased hiss could be heard from the large creature as it flapped its enormous wings in a show of impatience. The witch-king paid it no further attention, however, as he released Harry's chin and raised himself to his full, impressive height. Harry felt like a midget when he looked up at him from the ground.

The sound of quiet footsteps reached him and with a cautious look at his captor he turned his eyes in the same way the witch-king's head was turned. It seemed to take an eternity before the footsteps' owner could be seen, but when he did Harry breathed a relieved sigh.

"Unfortunately, I'm rather fond of my apprentice and as such I'm afraid I'll have to tell you that I won't be allowing him to change masters. You'll have to look elsewhere." Grey eyes hardened and turned into a steel colour, the air was tense with age old magic that reached out and wrapped around him, filling every pore in his body to the brink.

Harry had never been more relieved to see Regulus than he was in that moment.

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**A/N: **I'm doing it a bit differently this time as well, but there are some things I would like to say about the chapter that would have been a major spoiler had i posted this at the top of the page. So, as most of you probably noticed, the structure of this chapter is a little bit different from how it usually is. I've used something which we Norwegians call frempek (I can't seem to remember what it's called in English), which is where the author begins a chapter by giving the reader a peek into the future. I've also made a reference to something in chapter 3 which has been a mystery up to now, so if you caught that you get a cookie! :D

There was also one reviewer who wondered if there's going to be any Mpreg in this story, I haven't really thought about this, but I'll be putting up a poll on my profile so you can all vote on it. Honestly, it really isn't that important to me whether there is Mpreg or not, but I'm asking you this anyway so I have some idea of what to write in the future. So be a darling and stop by my profile, your vote is appreciated!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it and hopefully I'll have the next chapter finished soon. ;)

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	29. Hunted

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
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**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **There is some violence in this one, but nothing particularly gory. **  
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**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

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_"A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease." - John Muir, 1838 - 1914._

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**Chapter 29:**

**Hunted  
**

He shuddered, his limbs trembling as pain tore through him. His mind was in a state of chaos. Thoughts swivelled around, lapping over each other, making it impossible for him to distinguish them from one another. The heavy atmosphere did nothing to help him clear his mind either. Regulus and the witch-king's magic floated around in the air, crashing together. His sight was blurring and he could only see dark shadows where he usually would have been able to see every detail of their bodies. He was minutes away from drifting off to unconsciousness.

"Give him up, wizard." The witch-king hissed while simultaneously drawing his sword from its sheathe. "You had him, you ruined him and now its time for you to step back. He's ours."

"Yours?" Regulus snorted, leaning on his staff with a carefree air about him. "You really think I'll give him up just like that?"

"If you know what's best for you, yes." The nazgûl replied, taking one step forward so he was positioned over Harry, one leg on each side. "You were unable to help him achieve his true potential. You couldn't even teach him how to separate his emotions from his familiar's. As such I have no other choice but to intervene and do it myself. His abilities are not to be wasted."

"And what does your Lord think of this, hmm? Does this training of yours sit well with him? Perhaps he'll welcome Harry with a warm embrace and a radiating smile." Despite the carefree voice in which Regulus said these things, his lip curled upwards, his eyes narrowed and a small wrinkle had appeared on his forehead. It was obvious that the wizard was worried.

"He is the one who ordered it."

"Is he now? How curious." The Blue wizard murmured, grey eyes slightly glazed over in wonder. "And what interest could your Lord have in my apprentice? Harry is a rather charming young man, I know, but I rather doubt that it's his personality and adorably good looks that has won Sauron's highly esteemed attention."

Green eyes darted back and forth, looking from one to the other. A chill travelled through his body as more blood seeped out of his wounds. His skin was paling and he couldn't quite decide whether it was due to the blood-loss or the recent news of him having attracted Sauron's notice. As if things weren't complicated enough his infamous luck had to strike once again, leaving him in an even worse situation than he had originally been in. Fate was cruel and he was half about to give up on anything called mercy.

He drew in a shallow breath, wincing as he shifted to lie more on his side. His back was killing him. Literally. If they didn't get away from the witch-king and somewhere to safety soon he was afraid that he'd bleed out. He grunted, closing his eyes for a second before gazing up at the nazgûl standing above him. The witch-king truly looked intimidating in his dark, tattered and billowing cloak, the icy air that surrounded him did nothing to lessen the impression of evil and danger that always seemed to surround him.

A loud boom sounded from the distance. Echoing in the air. The wind abruptly picked up sending their clothes flying in every direction. Lightning flashed in the sky and Harry wanted nothing more than to get up from his position on the ground as the rain pounded down on him. The small drops of liquid felt like stones against his vulnerable skin. A storm was brewing and Harry had a feeling that they would be caught in the middle of it, whether they liked it or not.

Another boom filled the air and the two above him made their move. Steel met steel in a powerful show of strength as they jumped back and forth, attacking and dodging. Their moves were clearly meant to kill: always aimed at the most vulnerable and critical parts of the body. The sound of their swords clashing was easily drowned out by the thunder. Harry pushed himself upwards, leaning on his elbows, in order to get a better view. He had never seen Regulus fighting so ferociously, so seriously. In fact, he had never witnessed Regulus' true powers released. The man had always kept such a tight grip on them.

Blue lights filled the air, flying towards the witch-king as Regulus swung his staff. The rain drops seemed to halt in the air, hovering there before suddenly morphing together in a large ribbon of raging water. It grew with each drop of rain that hit it and Harry watched in awe as the impossibly large outcome coiled around Regulus. Not quite touching but still close enough to intervene should any of the witch-king's hits come too close.

Harry suddenly understood what Saruman had meant when he had said how different his and Regulus' elements were. Usually the student would take on some of his teacher's traits. Harry had, however, turned everything around and done the complete opposite. He was fire whereas Regulus was water.

A high shriek resonated in the air as the witch-king's large beast took off to the sky. Its large wings were beating harshly, creating a mini tornado made out of dust and dirt. Its deadly sharp claws shone menacingly as it drew its muscular legs tightly up under its body. And Harry could literally see the muscles flexing and working under the creature's skin. Another roar filled the air, this one deeper sounding more like a growl than a shriek. Leroy, having finally recuperated after the fall, got to his feet, stretching before taking off to the sky as well. Rage simmered in the dragon's eyes and as a result of that rage flames were coming off him in waves, licking at the air and growing larger and larger the higher Leroy got.

His chest burned, he could practically feel the power the dragon drew upon as it fought the other. Their connection became that much clearer as Leroy twisted and turned, moving gracefully through the air while shooting flames at the witch-king's beast. Every wound the dragon gained Harry could feel on his body. Every time Leroy breathed out even an ounce of fire it felt as if Harry himself was doing it. His familiar was draining him of his strength and Harry had no idea of how to stop it.

He was dizzy, everything around him was a blur and he couldn't register anything other than the dark spots fluttering across his eyes. It was disturbing his vision. A migraine was sneaking up on him, he could feel it. There was a tenseness at the back of his head and a constant pressure behind his eyes. He was headed for a mind-blowing and merciless headache that he couldn't imagine a more inconvenient time to get. Harry groaned, slumping backwards and hitting his head on the hard ground. The daylight was hurting him, the constant sounds from the battle was ringing in his ears and despite how hard he tried to force the pain away, to concentrate on the more important things, he couldn't help but to be distracted by the constant pain that travelled through his body.

"Harry look out!" Regulus' panicked voice shouted at the same time as Leroy's concerned cry rang through the air.

His senses were all over the place as Harry suddenly threw himself to the side. He used his hands to support himself before swinging himself to his feet and, in a rather graceful move, flipped himself backwards several times. He was just in time to avoid an enormous tail crushing him. His breath came in pants as the young wizard staggered for a moment, disorientated. Sweat ran down his forehead as green eyes opened. Once again that tale was headed for him. Gritting his teeth he threw himself to the ground, screaming as his ribs were jolted all the while rolling away from his attacker.

He gathered himself, concentrated and with a deep breath and a tremendous amount of effort on his part, moved his hands in a circle around himself, successfully surrounding himself with a sphere made out of fire. He paled even further, if that was possible. He felt weak, useless and not at all like himself as he stood there, exhausted from doing one of his simplest fire tricks. Something wasn't right. Even though he was injured he wasn't supposed to be drained from something as little as this. It was pathetic really.

Harry ducked, cringing as blood ran in streams down his back. His wounds, which had just begun to dry were once again opened, staining his shirt an even deeper red. Pupils narrowed and Harry heaved for breath as he once again threw himself out of the way. He was vaguely aware of Regulus trying to rid himself of the witch-king in order to aid his apprentice, though it seemed his efforts were futile. Leroy was also fighting his way to his master, though the beast in front of him was more than enough for the dragon to handle. Especially considering that he no longer had Harry to aid him. Together they were strong, separated they were weaker.

Nostrils flared as he breathed. In out. In out. It was an endless pattern and Harry was amazed that he could maintain it through the pain, the stress and the constant need to dodge. The pattern in which he was dodging almost seemed to turn into a dance. Twisting and turning, flipping, spinning and jumping he made every move his body was capable of in order to avoid the deadly tail. He developed a rhythm, dodging more easily when the creature's moves became predictable. Drawing a deep breath Harry flipped to the right, latching onto his lip and nearly biting through it when he landed awkwardly on his wrist. Despite this, however, his pain slowly blended into the background. It was forced to the back of his mind as adrenaline filled his veins and his need to survive grew stronger.

Even though his vision was still tainted by black spots, Harry managed to hone in on Leroy. Green eyes narrowed and he let out a loud whistling noise. The dragon immediately perked up, lashing out at the other creature with sharp talons before flying towards his master at a furious speed. Knowing that Leroy wouldn't slow down Harry prepared himself. His muscles tensed as he lowered himself into a crouch. He absent-mindedly blew his hair out of his face. His gaze was focused on Leroy, never straying from the large dragon. Not even when that vicious tail lashed out at him once more.

His breath came in pants as his chest moved up and down at a frantic pace. He could feel his muscles twitching as he continuously moved, not allowing them a single moment of reprieve. Harry could practically feel the air moving as Leroy flew closer and closer. His thighs trembled as he took aim while ate the same time flinging himself to the side. The world was rushing by and Harry, barely aware of his surroundings, blindly jumped up into the air. The young man's heart was beating a mile a minute, thumping so harshly that it was a wonder it didn't leap straight out of his chest. Blood was rushing through his ears, his stomach was doing flip flops, his whole body was trembling and Harry closed his eyes.

The feel of hard scales under his fingers comforted him as he landed, standing straight on top of Leroy's back. The wind rushed by him, tearing at his clothes, tugging at his hair and efficiently refreshing his whole being. A new spark of fire lightened up within him and he could feel the magic Leroy had drained from him rushing back like a great wave. It was fascinating how the two of them reacted to each other. How, when they fought separated, they were easily drained. It was as if they were one soul contained in two individual beings. And in a way they were. Leroy was, after all, made out of Harry's magic. The dragon was a part of him; a very important part.

Flames were bubbling under his skin, begging to be released. His eyes flashed red for a moment and as if he was on steady land, Harry walked towards the tip of Leroy's tail, looking back at the beast behind them. They needed to be rid of the creature before they could have any hope of getting some help to Regulus. He closed his eyes. Steadying his breathing and clasped his hands together. Well-known darkness wrapped around him, cradling him as he delved deep within himself, trusting Leroy to keep him out of danger.

A couple of minutes had passed by when Harry finally opened his eyes. Out of nowhere a humongous wall made out of white flames rose between them and the witch-king's creature. Heat warmed the air around them, turning so scorching hot that it became difficult to breathe. The fire flared, eating up any oxygen within its range. The creature on the other side released an enraged screech, flying back and forth with jerky movements as it tried to find a weak spot in the lethal wall.

A blue flash lightened up the sky, followed by a loud boom which was accompanied by the intensifying rain. The drops of water stung against his skin as they fell downwards, it almost felt as if his face was being lashed by hundreds of small whips. The storm was getting worse, growing stronger and stronger with every second that passed.

Water was running into his eyes, obscuring his vision and so with a small nudge he signalled for Leroy to take them to Regulus placing all his trust in the dragon's navigational skills. It didn't take long until the noises that usually accompanied a battle reached his ears. The sound of steel grinding against steel, of Regulus' quickly uttered spells and the witch-king's triumphant hisses each time he managed to draw blood all reached his ears. When they came within sight it became painfully obvious that Regulus, with his torn clothes and bloodied skin, was struggling to keep up with the nazgûl.

He yelped, clinging tightly to Leroy as a sudden flash of lighting struck only a few feet away from them. "Fuck, we really need to get out of here."

Grabbing a hold of Leroy's mane he tugged it a little to the right, heading straight towards Regulus despite the danger of being caught in the middle of the two. The hold he had on the great fiery wall was loosening and sweat rolled down his face in perspiration. The urge to run away was becoming stronger by the minute and so driven by this force he reached out, grabbing a hold of Regulus and with a great tug managed to get him on top of Leroy.

"Do something, anything, to stall him!" He shouted, focusing on watching where they were flying. "We need to get some distance between us."

A strong hand pressed against his back and Harry choked on air in order to keep from releasing the agonized scream that was lingering at the back of his throat. Regulus' hand was pressing on his wounds, sending wave after wave of pain bounding up to his brain. He so wanted to scream, to wrench himself away from the wizard's hand. He couldn't though. That would ruin his master's concentration, which in turn would lash back at them in the form of Regulus not being able to perform the spell he was preparing.

"Keep him steady for me, would you Harry?" The blue wizard spoke, completely unaware of the pain he was causing.

Harry didn't reply. He sighed in relief when the hand shifted from his back and onto his shoulder. He looked back just in time to see Regulus mouthing something before a blinding, white light shot out of the wizard's staff and towards their pursuer. An enraged cry pierced the atmosphere, ringing in his ears. He urged Leroy to go faster.

His control was slipping. His grip was slipping and even his mind was slipping. He didn't know how long he could on before the pain took over and lulled him into unconsciousness. Every breath he took hurt, every move he made hurt. "Regulus, take the reigns."

"What?" Regulus' deep voice came from behind him, confused. "What reigns? There aren't any reigns?"

"Oh for god's sake, grab a hold of Leroy's mane now!" Harry growled, the world spinning around him as he closed his eyes in a futile attempt to clear everything. It didn't help. In fact, everything seemed to get worse. A shiver wrecked his frame and he released a pained moan as he fell forward, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The last thing he registered was Regulus' hastily uttered curse.

How unusual, he dazedly mused; he'd never heard the wizard swear before.

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He couldn't have been out for very long. The rain was still pounding down on him. The wind was still rushing around him and they were still in the air, flying away from the witch-king and his beast. Harry released a great groan, shifting on top of Leroy in order to get a look back at Regulus. He could easily see how exhausted the man was, the fact that he was barely able to keep his eyes from closing was a strong testimony of that.

"How long until we're there?" He questioned, his voice quiet, nearly a whisper.

"At least a day, maybe more." Regulus replied, lightly squeezing Harry's shoulder. "It's good to see you are awake, for a moment there I was beginning to fear the worst."

"And our pursuers?" The young wizard ignored the other's exclamation of worry, for the moment at least.

"Haven't seen a wink of them since we escaped. That fire of yours sure come in handy at times, my dear Harry."

"Yes... Is there something wrong with me, Regulus?" Green eyes turned to quizzically gaze at his companion. "Something wrong with my magic? My connection with Leroy?"

"I don't know." Regulus replied, relenting his hold on Leroy and allowing Harry to take over the steering. "Does something feel wrong?"

"Yes." A mere whisper.

"Then you should trust your instincts, Harry. I believe those are what have kept you alive up till now." Regulus' voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt.

It would seem that problems would never stop occurring. There would always be something to think about, to be afraid of. If it wasn't Voldemort then it was arriving in a new world and if it wasn't that it was having to fight a whole new world while at the same time deal with relationships and finding a way back home. No matter what he did more problems would only be thrown at him. If he left Middle-Earth for his own world then that meant leaving Legolas behind to waste away. If he stayed then it would mean that he was literally abandoning his friends, his family and leaving them to die by Voldemort's hand. Harry knew by experience exactly how cruel and merciless that hand was. It was not something he wished for others to undergo.

Ever.

"What should I do about it, then?" To be frank he had no idea what was wrong with him and as such he had absolutely no idea of how to fix it.

"I think that you should wait until we've gotten back to your Fellowship and you've healed." Grey eyes turned to stare seriously at him. "There's no need for you to worry about this until you're healthy. It'll only slow down your healing progress."

"So I'm to wait?"

"Yes, you are to wait."

"You're being uncharacteristically serious, Regulus. It's very unusual of you." Harry stated, glancing back at his master.

"Of course I am, and you should be as well. Even though we managed to escape we shouldn't forget the witch-king's words. They'll be hunting for you from now on, Harry. They want you and that is something we should all worry about. You should be worrying more than anyone." He paused for a moment, scratching his chin before continuing. "But as I said, you should wait until you've healed to worry."

"Easier said than done." The youngest of the two wryly declared.

"Now, now. Don't be so pessimistic, Harry, it doesn't suit that pretty little face of yours." The sting in his cheek signified the fact that Regulus had, indeed, pinched it.

The dragon beneath them snorted sending an amused look back at them before speeding up, shooting forward so fast that the world seemed to blur around them. Leroy, it seemed, had drastically recovered. Not a hint of the previous battle could be seen on him. It seemed that each wound his familiar had received at the claws of the witch-king's beast had healed, leaving smooth, untarnished scales in its wake. Harry smoothed his hands over the dragon's back. Smiling at the feel of Leroy's strong body. His dragon truly was a magnificent creature, he marvelled.

As if having heard his thoughts Leroy released a deep, pleased purr, his whole body rumbling with it. A soft chuckle escaped the confines of Harry's mouth and he leaned down, nuzzling his face into the dragon's soft mane. He gently placed a soft kiss right between Leroy's ear, at the top of his head. Hissing slightly he moved to sit up again. The large gashes across his back had begun burning, stinging so fiercely that he nearly cried out. Leroy's whole demeanour changed at once. Where the dragon had once been happy and calm it now shifted with concern. Nothing escaped Leroy's notice it seemed.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Regulus' voice came from behind him, shattering the silence that had settled between them.

"My wounds, they're acting up."

"What wounds? I thought you just had a couple of broken ribs." Harry didn't like the hint of fear that appeared in the other's eyes.

"No, the nazgûl's beast managed to get his claws in me."

"Bloody hell, Harry! Why didn't you tell me?" Regulus frantically forced Harry's hands away from Leroy's mane, taking over the steering himself and urged the dragon to land. "Oh this is bad, this is really bad."

When they landed Regulus immediately pushed Harry down to the ground, forcefully ripping his shirt in order to bare his back. The naked skin was covered in three large gashes. Yellow puss was trailing down Harry's back, mixing with the fresh blood seeping from the newly opened wounds.

"We have no other choice I see." The wizard easily brought Harry to his feet, ignoring the young man's protests in favour of turning towards the dragon watching them. "You'll have to find your way back alone, this can't be delayed."

And without another word they disappeared with a loud pop.

He felt as if he was being squeezed through an impossibly small tube. His intestines were being pressed together and Harry thought it a wonder that they hadn't collapsed from the pressure yet. Lights flashed across his eyes, disturbing his sight and forcing him to close them. When the pressure finally relented he stumbled to his feet, barely managing to keep from vomiting as he gasped for breath. Noise filled his ears, so very different from the silence of the forest they had been in and Harry couldn't help but to notice that the rain had suddenly ceased.

Looking up he was amazed to see the familiar surroundings of Edoras. The people of Rohan surrounded him on every edges, looking concernedly down at him yet still not daring enough to bend down and help him. Strong hands settled around his waist, dragging him up from the dirty ground before they shifted, one to the small of his back and the other under his knees. Effortlessly Regulus lifted him, carrying him up the stairs that led to Meduseld.

"What...Regulus, what is going on?"

"Didn't I tell you they wanted you? You said your wounds were acting up. The witch-king's beast has a poison in its claws which enables it to track whoever it injures. It is painful and ruthlessly efficient." Regulus' face was set in stone, his features unfittingly grave. "My skills alone aren't enough to stop this, that's why it's so urgent that we find Gandalf."

Doors slammed open as Regulus stormed through them, not even having touched the wood as he ignored the many guards following in their wake. The man's breath came in pants and Harry looked up at him, worried, when he felt the frantic up and down motion of his chest. Frenzied, that was the word best describing Regulus at the moment, frenzied and panicking.

"Fuck, Mithrandir! If you do not drag your sorry pipe smoking arse in here at this instant I'll personally make the rest of your life a living hell." The blue wizard's enraged voice echoed off the walls and throughout the whole house. No one could have missed it.

Footsteps, belonging to more than one person could be heard running through the hallways. The sound of swords being drawn rang in Harry's ears causing him to shift as the sound hit his eardrums, which in turn made him put pressure on his broken ribs. He whimpered, closing his eyes in order to halt the rush of tears that wanted to come forth. He was a right mess and he could only imagine how horrible and pathetic he looked to those who gazed upon him.

"Don't move you silly boy." Regulus murmured, adjusting his hold on him.

"What is this?" Théoden's proud voice reached them. "A stranger in my home? An unbidden stranger at that."

"I am not here for you, King Théoden." Harry could honestly say that he had never heard Regulus speak in such a manner. His voice sounded proud, arrogant and with a large amount of power behind it. The wizard almost sounded condescending.

"Guards." The king's voice was steely and if Harry's face hadn't been burrowed in the fabric of Regulus' cloak he was sure he would have seen the narrowing of the man's eyes.

Shuffling feet could be heard as the guards surrounded them in a circle, their swords pointed straight at them with no hesitation whatsoever. The tension was high in the air and Harry waited with bated breath for Regulus' next move. It never came.

"What is this?" Gandalf's familiar voice rang. "Lower your weapons, this is no enemy. Alantar, my friend, what brings you here?"

"Urgent business. I believe that you've lost something. I am merely returning it." With that said Regulus drew his cloak away from Harry, revealing his pale, sweaty face.

"Harry!"

"He's injured." Regulus softly stated, turning Harry around in order to reveal his wounds. "The witch-king got to him before I did."

"Follow me, we'll take him to his room." Gandalf briskly said, storming out of the hall in a show of a billowing cloak.

"You know," Harry said, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear and away from his face. "You don't have to talk as if I'm not here. I'm perfectly capable of hearing you."

"Of course you are, Harry." Gandalf replied, sending a radiating smile towards the young man. "But I believe it to be essential for you to keep quiet this time. We all know how advanced the hearing of an elf is and I believe that should Legolas hear your lovely voice he'll come here and make it slightly more difficult for us to treat you."

"Ah," He sighed, allowing himself to be pushed through the door leading in to his room before settling down on the bed. "It always comes down to the possessive elf, doesn't it?"

The two didn't reply, instead they motioned for him to lay down on his stomach before moving to sit on either side of him. They made sure that not an ounce of fabric was in their way and handed him a chunk of leather.

"Bite down on it, this won't be pleasant."

Searing hot pain raced through him as magic curled around him, pressing down on his wounds. From his fingers, to his toes it burned. He bit down, screaming at the top of his voice as tears, unchallenged, flowed down his face. Harry writhed, shying away from the pain each time a new wave washed over him. Hands grasped him to still his movements. His vision was riddled in white flashes and he clenched his hands so hard and tight that his nails dug into his skin, splitting his skin. He was bathed in agony.

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**A/N: **I'm posting this at the end of the chapter because it's important and I have a feeling that more of you will read it that way.

Regarding the MPreg poll on my profile. I'll be closing it now since I feel that I've gotten enough votes. Here are the results: Yes 39, Do whatever feels natural to you 30, No 24. The people have spoken and MPreg will be included. However, in order to not make anyone feel uncomfortable I'll be writing the Mpreg in an epilogue, that way the ones who don't feel comfortable reading it won't have to stop reading the story. The epilogue will, of course, not be something crucial to the story and so it doesn't matter if you read it or not. I hope everyone is satisfied with this solution! :D

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	30. White Tea With Cookies On The Side

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
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**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
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**Warning: **Slash in this chapter. **  
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** Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

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_"A man reserves his true and deepest love not for the species of woman in whose company he finds himself electrified and enkindled, but for that one in whose company he may feel tenderly drowsy." - _George Jean Nathan, 1882 - 1958.

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**Chapter 30:**

**White Tea With Cookies On The Side  
**

"I think I might be in trouble." A tired, husky voice whispered, sore from all the screaming it had been put through. The uttered words were more of a statement and it was clear that Harry didn't expect it to be answered. "More trouble than I can handle."

Strips of wet and cold cloth lay scattered across his back, covering each and every gash marring his skin. Gentle hands stroked through dark locks of hair, pushing it out of his face while at the same time making it look more presentable. Green eyes were half-lidded, shining dully with exhaustion. Lying in a heap of sheets Harry truly looked vulnerable, almost like a lost child. His pale skin contrasted with the dark fabrics splayed across his body.

He nuzzled his face further into the soft mattress beneath him, dazedly staring at the fingers stretched out beside his face. They were thin, long and looked more fragile then he would have liked them to. Without the presence of his wand they look almost foreign, they were meant to wrap around the small wooden stick, to caress it, to fire off spells with it. They looked strangely bare without it.

Harry shifted, turning to look at his caretaker. As always Aragorn looked as if he had tumbled around with someone. Every single strand of dark hair was situated in a strange sort of orderly chaos. His jaw, littered with stubble, was as strong as ever, the muscles there flexing with each movement. If anyone was deserving of the title rugged, Aragorn was that person. The only thing about him that wasn't masculine were his eyes which seemed strangely gentle amongst all that beard, hair and fierceness.

An uncomfortable hiss rolled across his lips as the ranger put some more pressure on his wounds, sending a burning wave of pain jolting through him.

"I apologize." The brunette muttered, easing up a little as he changed one of the strips.

He hummed in reply, his eyes darting back and forth as he clenched and unclenched his fingers, only pausing as another shot of pain grabbed a hold of him. Green eyes closed for a second as he stopped breathing, barely managing to keep from voicing his discomfort.

"Do you think there's a reason these things keep happening?" Harry asked, allowing his muscles to relax as the pain retreated.

"What things?" Aragorn questioned back, moving to the other side of the room in order to change the water.

"You know, innocent little me going out on an innocent little mission only to run into an evil nazgûl who suddenly decides that injuring and hunting me is his new favourite past time."

"I think," Grey eyes flickered up to look at the young wizard as the ranger walked back to Harry's side, sitting down right beside him. "That even as much as I loathe and hate this for happening to you there's a meaning behind it. Somehow this was meant to happen and the only thing you can do about it is to go along and make the best out of it."

"So what you're saying is that I should accept it? To accept that someone out there is pulling the threads as if this is a mere puppet show?" There was an undertone to the young wizard's voice that clearly indicated that Harry's mood depended entirely on Aragorn finding the right answer.

"All I'm saying, is that you shouldn't let this bring you down. Use it to your advantage." It would seem that Aragorn, unlike Legolas, was beginning to get used to Harry's sudden outbursts. The man knew that there was a specific answer needed, usually one where Harry wasn't looked on as weak, to pacify him.

"I suppose you're right." Harry relented, relaxing back against the mattress.

As if nothing had happened Aragorn continued to care for Harry's wounds. He was constantly changing the strips covering them, quietly moving back and forth in the room. Green eyes grew heavy as he was slowly drawn closer to the edge of sleep. He never crossed it though, for just as he was about to surrender to it, the large wooden door that led out to the hallway slammed open with a great bang.

"Where is he?" Gimli's deep voice resonated off the walls. "Where is he, the foolish wizard that continuously insists on sending me to an early grave? I'll give him a good beating I will, scaring me in such a way! Harry, you get you're arse out here at once!"

"I'm afraid, Gimli," The young man began, a small smile forcing itself onto his face as he turned to gaze at the dwarf. "That I'm rather preoccupied at the moment. You're arse whooping will have to wait."

"Oh no!" The dwarf shouted, his arms wailing about as he took one threatening step towards Harry. "There's no getting out of this one! I don't care how injured you are, it's time you learnt a lesson. You should be glad it's me and not your elf that's standing here. What on earth were you thinking? Facing the witch-king in such a way! Are you begging to be killed?"

"How on earth could I have known that he would show up? I'm not a bloody seer you know!" Harry shouted, abruptly sitting up in order to properly face the dwarf. A grimace made its way onto his face as he jolted his sore ribs. "You're being unreasonable, Gimli."

"No, expecting me to see you unconscious, in pain and wounded without reacting is unreasonable. Do you think I enjoy watching every time you get injured? You're my friend Harry, if I want to worry for you I'll damn well do as I please! Nothing you say or do can stop me." Strong arms folded across the dwarf's chest in a show of stubbornness.

"I'm not saying that it is. All I mean is that I couldn't have possibly known that the witch-king would show up. I'm not responsible for this." Green eyes narrowed as he wryly commented. "Contrary to your belief, I do not enjoy being ripped into by lethal talons."

In a matter of mere seconds Harry had an armful of a sobbing, red-haired dwarf. Due to the suddenness and unexpectedness of the move he wasn't quite sure what to do. A bemused looking wizard turned to look imploringly at Aragorn, wrapping his arms around Gimli as the male's sobbing increased. Gimli's body shook with the force of his cries and Harry looked down at the dwarf in concern as he began babbling. Ever since they had met, Harry had never known Gimli to babble.

"He's been pacing outside of this room ever since he learned of your presence here." Aragorn explained as he moved towards them, gently extracting the sobbing mass from Harry's embrace. "He's been quite inconsolable. It was only due to Legolas that he didn't storm in here when we heard you had awakened."

"Legolas?" Harry's face twisted into a hopeful expression.

"He's outside. Has been ever since we were alerted of your presence." The ranger said as he gently urged Gimli to walk towards the door on his own —all the while awkwardly patting him on his back.

Silence spread in the room as Aragorn closed the door. Harry waited, listening to the sounds coming from outside the room, wondering if perhaps Aragorn would be urging the elf to come inside. Five minutes passed by and still nothing happened. Clenching his hands together in tight fists, Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, biting his lip as his wounds were stretched. Slowly, carefully he shifted closer to the edge of the bed. The feel of the sheets gliding against his skin created a pleasant friction and he nearly dreaded rising from them.

Bare feet connected with the cold wooden floor, sending shivers up his spine as he waited for his body to get used to it. He experimentally moved his toes before pushing himself up onto his feet, staggering for one wee moment. Small shots of pain continuously chased through him each time he twisted his body too much to the left. And so when he finally began his venture towards the door, he found himself to be limping ever so slightly. Never had a journey across a simple room seemed as long as it did in that moment.

A sigh of relief escaped him when, finally, his hand enclosed around the familiar coldness of the doorknob. With a slight jerk of his wrist he turned the knob, gently pushing it out and away from him. The door moved open with a creak, the sound ringing in his ear. With careful steps he moved so that he could stick his head through the opening, looking from left to right in order to take in his surroundings.

"What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting." Legolas' familiar voice came from his right.

"Looking for you." He replied, sending a smile towards the elf as he, with pathetically small steps, made his way closer to him. "I'm awfully lonely in there."

"You should have called for me then." The blond stated as he closed the distance between them with only two confident steps.

"I wasn't sure you would come if I did. I know how amusing the hallway is, after all. It truly is hard to compete with." He joked, allowing Legolas to guide him back into the room.

"I wouldn't have been able to control myself." Legolas merely said, gently closing the door behind them as his hand slid up to cup the back of Harry's neck, his thumbs tracing invisible patterns there. "Seeing you injured and unconscious, I wouldn't have been able to see it without heading out to kill the one that did it."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing you didn't come." Harry murmured, gesturing for the elf to sit down on the bed before curling his left arm around his shoulders and crawling into his lap. The hand that wasn't already occupied moved upwards in order to cup Legolas' jaw, marvelling at the smooth skin there. Green eyes lowered to stare at the flesh, searching for a sign of any blemishes. There were none.

Two fingers traced the lines of the elf's lips, taking in every line and dip. Green eyes, previously occupied with the sight of Legolas' skin, swivelled upwards and connected with blue ones as a hot, wet tongue peeked out and made contact with his fingers. He drew in a shaky breath, hesitantly leaning forward until he could feel Legolas' warm breath washing over his lips. A pink appendage swiftly wet his lips before just as hurriedly retreating, leaving behind it a glistening trail of saliva. With half-lidded eyes he closed the distance between them, relishing in the softness of his elf's lips.

Legolas immediately responded, his hands settling around Harry's waist in order to draw the young man further against him. Their bodies were tightly pressed up against each other, leaving no room between them. Harry shifted slightly, leaning all his weight on Legolas as he used the elf's shoulder for support. He wriggled in the blond's lap, trying to find a comfortable position to sit in as a shiver travelled down his spine. A hum of pleasure escaped him as Legolas' tongue swept over his plump lower lip, silently begging for entrance which was immediately granted. Without hesitation the elf began mapping out Harry's mouth, exploring every corner, tracing over his teeth and pressing up against the roof of his mouth before gently entwining it with his own.

Before he had the time to think about it he rocked his hips, gasping at the instant thrill of pleasure that emanated from his crotch. He did it again, moving back and forth in Legolas' lap, heightening his enjoyment each time their hips connected. After a while the elf moved so his hands settled on the young wizard's hips, pushing them even further and harder up against each other, aiding Harry in his pace. His body was heating up, his breath came in the form of gasps and pants as their pace quickened while their pleasure increased.

A cry of pain suddenly flew from his mouth as he arched away from Legolas, successfully breaking the kiss. His eyes closed, rolling to the back of his head as the burning increased, washing over him like a great tsunami. His wounds were acting up, sending wave after wave of pain through his tired body. He panted, his lips opening in order for him to draw in as much air as he possibly could. Tears were trailing down his cheek, staining them with wet, salty liquid. Green eyes suddenly sprang open as he felt something wet trailing down his back. Trembling hands immediately reached behind him, diving under his shirt, travelling up the arch of his back until they finally connected with the liquid. At once he withdrew them, lifting them up to his face. Blood, his fingers were covered in blood.

The body beneath him stiffened.

"I think," Green clashed with blue. "Now is the right time to call for Gandalf."

* * *

It had been hours, for hours his cries, his heartbreaking cries had echoed throughout the halls of Meduseld. His throat was sore from the abuse and all he wanted to do was succumb to the darkness calling him. The wounds pulsed, heating up and cooling as a small presence made itself known in the back of Harry's mind. He could feel the darkness, could feel the witch-king's impatience. It was a mystery to him, but somehow it seemed that some sort of connection had settled between them, enabling him to feel every emotion the nazgûl experienced. It felt as if his mind was split. On one side was himself and his emotions, on the other the witch-king resided, constantly disturbing him with his presence.

The exhausted forms of Regulus and Gandalf were seated by his bedside, finally having finished whatever treatment they were giving him. The pain, which had been so great that it had threatened his own sanity, had dulled to a small ache. Not enough to really hurt him, but still enough to make him aware of it.

"He's rather persistent, isn't he?" An out of breath Gandalf stated as he leaned back, removing his hands from Harry's back.

"They want him, Gandalf. They long for him, long to possess him. This relentlessness only serves to strengthen my suspicions." Regulus replied, his eyes travelling over Harry's body with a concerned glint in them. "Unless we do something soon, the wounds won't heal until they have him in their grasp."

"Then I believe it is time for us to call an old friend, don't you agree?"

"Old friend? What old friend?" Harry's spent voice rose into the air, cutting into the conversation.

"Radagast." Gandalf said, running a hand through the mop of hair covering the young wizard's head in a soothing motion. "He's the only one that'll be able to cure you. Radagast is a rather gentle and caring soul, whereas we focused on developing our elemental and magical skills he focused on connecting with beasts and perfecting his medical abilities. A very wise choice, now that I think about it."

"Yeah..." A sigh flowed across Harry's lips as he tiredly closed his eyes. He was so tired, so sleepy, that he barely registered the rest of the conversation. The only thing he could pick up on was Regulus leaving the room with a promise to return as soon as possible with Harry's only chance of surviving. He laid there in a sort of half-sleepy and half-aware daze, registering the most unimportant sounds while his eyes were curtained by the darkness of his own eyelids.

"Are you in pain?" Gandalf asked, cutting through the young wizard's daze, sounding more weary and old than Harry had ever heard him. "We both know I can't heal your wound, but if it becomes too great, I can dull the pain. There's no need for you to suffer too much while we wait."

"I'm not so much in pain as I'm tired." Harry mumbled into his pillow, his fingers clenching around the fabric beneath him as he wiggled and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"As is to be expected." The older wizard calmly stated, dragging a chair towards Harry's bedside. "The ordeal you have just been through would have left a grown, healthy man twice your size tired."

"Is it cold in here?" Gandalf abruptly questioned, effectively cutting off any reply Harry may have had. "It is, isn't it? Better light a fire then."

Harry didn't really think it was cold. In fact, the room temperature was just right, not too warm yet not too cool. There was no need for a fire. Still Harry didn't say anything, instead observing as Gandalf easily managed to create a flame in the palm of his hand. He watched as the fire latched onto the dry wood, immediately feeding on it, crackling and hissing in what Harry could only assume to be pleasure. It was painfully clear to him as to why the sudden need for a fire had appeared. The wizard obviously didn't like to think about the fact that Harry had been injured upon the mission he had sent him on. That, accompanied by the fact that Gandalf had been unable to cure him, seemed to weigh heavily on the old man's mind, gnawing at him like a great shadow of guilt.

So, instead of bringing it up again, Harry changed the subject. "How is Marcus?"

"Oh, he's much better! Already out of bed and helping his father. He stopped by, I believe it was yesterday, to enquire after you. He, of course, believes you are still on that mission. It wouldn't do for him to see you like this, after all."

"And Gimli? He was rather upset with me when I last saw him." He questioned, not once taking his eyes away from the fizzling fire. It was enchanting how the yellow and orange flames moved. Almost like a dance.

A large calloused hand moved upwards, burrowing itself in Gandalf's beard as the wizard followed Harry's example. Quietly gazing at the flames. "He is fine as well. The thought of how close you were to being captured shook him up, that is all. Nothing that a good night's sleep won't fix."

"Good." Harry whispered in return. "That is good."

None of them said anything more. They stayed quiet, revelling in the peace that filled the room. As they sat there it became quite clear that they were both connected to the element of fire. The two of them were just as entranced by it. Their breathing united, the rise and fall of their chest followed the motions of the flames and the warmth of the fire reached out to them both.

"I'm going to kill myself." A broken whisper suddenly shattered the peaceful atmosphere into a million tiny shards of broken glass.

"I am aware." Was the calm response.

"I have to." Another whisper, this one quieter than the last.

"I know." Fabric rustled as the wizard shifted.

"I don't want to. I'm too scared, what if I just disappear? I don't want to disappear." Hands trembled as Harry clawed at the bed sheets, repeatedly swallowing in order to halt the flow of tears that threatened to rush forward.

"You won't." Gandalf confidently said, laying a comforting hand on Harry's shaking shoulder. "I will not allow you to."

"How?" He asked, turning his head in order to look at the other. "You can't fight death, no one can. Nothing, other than a higher being, can save me from the grim reaper's grasp."

"Some things in life are just meant to be. You were always destined to come here, to meet me, to find Legolas. Everything that has happened until now was meant to happen. Just as you are meant to, somehow, defeat death and come back to us. Destiny and Fate watches over us and makes sure that nothing that shouldn't happen occurs. And that is a small comfort, my friend."

"Now, let us not dwell upon such depressing matters. A nice, refreshing cup of tea is what we need now." A gentle smile appeared on the man's face. "You just lie there and relax and I'll head down to the kitchens and make us some. What do you say?"

"I prefer white tea," he informed the other. The prospect of some tea was rather tempting, he mused as Gandalf walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. Harry found himself to be looking forward to the moment when that first drop of tea would hit his tongue, its sweet flavour exploding on his taste buds.

His moment of weakness, if you could call it that, had been all but forgotten, pushed to the back of his mind for the time-being. He looked around the room, searching for any sign of some entertainment. A generously sized bookshelf was positioned on the right side of the room, right beside the fireplace. The shelves were littered with books of different sizes, some looked to be ancient with yellow pages and the spine barely intact. Others seemed like newborn babies, the letters were written on white paper, the covers painted in strong colours. It almost seemed as if they were untouched. He wanted to move out of bed, to push himself up from the mattress, walk over to the shelf and stroke his fingers along their spines. It almost seemed as if they were calling to him. And just as he was about to exactly that the door opened, allowing Gandalf to step back into the room.

A tray with two cups, one teapot with damp steaming from it and a plate with what looked to be cookies was firmly clutched in his hands. At once the amount of spit in his mouth doubled. Now that he thought about it he was getting quite hungry.

"Here we go." The wizard said, pushing the door closed with his foot before motioning to the plate of biscuits. "One can't have some tea without any cookies."

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, it was completely unexpected but, my good people, we have now officially reached chapter 30. When I started this story I didn't really think it would be that long, but I guess as we got further and further into the story the ideas just kept popping up. And so I imagine that the story will have at least 40, if not more, chapters.

Anyway, this, my dear readers, is dedicated to all of you as a present from me to you for my birthday. Can you believe it? 17 years of my life has passed and now there's only one left until I can take my driver's license! :D

Hope you enjoyed!

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	31. Freedom, What Is There To It?

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning:** ...

** Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

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_"Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away." _- Charles Caleb Colton, 1780-1832

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**Chapter 31:**

**Freedom, What Is There To It?  
**

"Take it easy now. One step at a time, there's no need to rush things." Éowyn said as she gentle guided Harry through the halls of Meduseld, supporting his weight while they slowly moved towards their destination.

"My Lady Éowyn, I have been restricted to a bed in a room with only one window which I wasn't even allowed to walk over to for days. I can honestly say that if there ever was a time to rush things, it is now. " Harry said, laughing excitedly at the prospect of breathing proper, fresh air. He could nearly feel the wind tugging at his clothes, caressing his face and welcoming him.

"Besides," He continued, tightening his grip on her arm for a moment as he became more and more excited. "Leroy is coming, I need to greet him."

"How do you know? How can you know that he is coming before he's even on the horizon?" Curiosity filled the lady's voice as she pushed open the door that led to the final hinder between him and fresh air, the throne hall.

"I can feel it. He is a part of me, just as I am a part of him. Whenever he's gone it feels as if a part of me is missing. Trust me, he's on his way." Smiling at her he ignored the concerned grey eyes fixed on his person as they walked through the hall, manoeuvring around the many people bustling about there.

Even though Regulus still hadn't returned with Radagast his wounds had begun healing, allowing for more movement on his part. Still, no matter how much improvement his body had made Gandalf refused to let him outside until their two wizarding colleagues arrived. It was getting tiresome. And so when Éowyn had come in offering to take him outside he had immediately accepted. For once he found himself to be thankful to Merry and Pippin for all the trouble they got themselves into as they had successfully distracted Gandalf and made it possible for him to escape without notice. He would have to remember to reward them for that at a later time.

The smile already situated on his face brightened ten times as the door leading to the outside world was pushed open. A wave of fresh air washed over him like spring after a particularly harsh winter. His eyes closed in rapture, his airways seemed to open up and become brand new. He had been right, he mused as a breeze fluttered past them, the air in his room had to be contaminated, how else could air like this feel so wonderful?

"Come here," The Lady quietly, so as not to disturb him, said. "Lets go sit on the edge and enjoy the view."

Her arm wrapped around his waist as they, in a gathered effort, seated themselves upon the cold stone floor. His legs dangled over the edge and as he leaned his head upon Éowyn's shoulder he decided that he was content. Sitting there was something he could have done forever, if needed. It brought him such peace, such calm that he had never felt before.

"Should I feel threatened?" A welcome, amused voice sounded from behind them.

"Yes you should." Harry began, his eyes closed he nuzzled his cheek further against the Lady's shoulder. "I've fallen in love with Éowyn and her heavenly shoulders. You've got nothing on them."

He could feel Éowyn shifting uneasily against him. When not in the presence of at least Aragorn and Gimli it didn't seem as if she was comfortable around his mate. Of course, he could understand why. Elves were, after all, such magnificent creatures that inspired awe in all beings. It was only natural to feel threatened by their grace, looks and superior skills. The possessiveness of the elves was also a factor playing into it, he suspected. They were renowned for their jealousy when it came to their mates and because it was common knowledge to the people of Rohan that Harry was, in fact, such a mate Éowyn's unease was not unfounded.

"Don't worry, my Lady." He whispered in her ear, despite knowing that Legolas could probably hear every single word he said. "He doesn't bite."

A muffled snort of amusement came from the place in which Legolas stood, once again drawing Harry's attention back on him. "Was there something particular you wanted, or do you just enjoy destroying my me-time?"

"Am I not allowed to greet my mate on such a fine morning? Would you deny me this pleasure?" Footsteps came nearer and suddenly the elf was crouched down beside him, running one gentle finger down his cheek. Blue eyes darted back and forth as they took in every detail of Harry's appearance. Hands crept up to take a hold of his jaw, cupping his face and tilting it in order for their eyes to meet.

"How are you this morning? Better?"

Once again he could feel Éowyn shifting beside him, and so taking pity on her he released her and allowed her to move further away from them. He wouldn't have wanted to sit right beside a couple being all gushy either. Harry himself knew how awkward it was sitting next to a pair that were having a... _moment._

"Much, now that I don't have a wizard tracing my every step." He smiled again, leaning into the other's touch.

"He's just worried for you." Legolas soothed, sitting down so Harry could lean against him.

"Yeah, that's fine and everything, but he won't let me go out." The slight hitch at the end of the sentence signified that it had, as a matter of fact, been a whine. It was strange, but he only seemed to whine, pout and sulk in the presence of his elf. Perhaps it was the fact that their relationship was different than those he had with the others. Maybe it had to do with the new-found trust between them or even the fact that Legolas insisted on caring for him in a way he had never been before. Either way, he liked it. He liked being able to let loose and relax around the other. It only strengthened his belief that their relationship was heading in a good direction.

"You're out now, aren't you?"

"Yes, but that's just because I sneaked out." The young wizard replied.

"Oh believe me, you didn't sneak out." Legolas chuckled, his amusement clear to the world. "Gandalf wanted me to tell you that he was perfectly aware of your movements and that he wants you back in your room in an hour."

"Of course he does." Harry dryly commented before moving out of the elf's grasp. "Well then, since I'm only allowed one hour of freedom I'm afraid you'll have to leave. That hour is going to be spent with my dear friend Éowyn."

"Ah, enjoy yourself then, my love." A small peck on his cheek, delivered by a pair of soft lips, was his farewell and in only a few seconds Legolas no longer stood before him.

"He's very attentive to you." The soft fabric of Éowyn's dress rustled in the wind as she moved to join him again, a fond smile on her face as she observed him.

"He is." Harry agreed, folding his arms in his lap as she sat by his side. She was right, now that he looked for it Legolas was very attentive. Always brushing against him whenever they passed each other in the hallways, always checking up on him with lingering glances and touches. And even though they were busy Legolas always made sure to drag him away from all the work and tasks in order for them to eat dinner with each other. It was comforting to know that the elf cared enough about him to drop whatever he was doing in order to have that meal with him. That routine of always eating dinner together single-handedly managed to reassure and calm him after a day filled with worries. It was very much like the serenity that always arrived after a violent storm. Legolas was his serenity.

"You are very lucky to have someone so devoted to you. There aren't many who experience that."

"Are you speaking of yourself now?" The slight hint of sadness and bitterness had easily been detected, observed and processed in a matter of mere moments.

"I'm horrible, aren't I?" She questioned, her fingers clutching at her dress. "Loving a man already taken. Each time I see that piece of jewellery I'm cruelly reminded that he loves another and that my affection toward him will never be received as anything other than something platonic. I can't help it, but sometimes I find myself wishing that he had never met her and would instead love me."

"I don't think you're horrible. In spite of everything we can't help who we fall in love with and you're merely a victim of this. Aragorn will never be able to love you, you and I both know that. He is too devoted to Arwen and the connection they share. Your feelings and affections, my lady, are better suited for another." It would be better, Harry decided, for all parties if Éowyn could move on and cease her pursuit of the ranger. That way she wouldn't have to face a broken heart and Aragorn wouldn't have to go through the ordeal of turning her down.

Silence settled between them as the lady mulled over his words and Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed the calm around them. The string coiling from his magical core and out towards Leroy was rapidly shortening, making it glaringly obvious that the dragon wasn't far away: a few miles perhaps.

Another gust of wind swept by, messing up his hair, tugging at his clothes and washing over his skin like a delicate silk sheet. A peculiar scent moved forth, filling his nostrils and clinging there. It was a mixture of horse and sweat. Not an uncommon scent to be found here in Edoras, as he had early on learned. Another scent, this one more offensive than the first, filled the air, clashing with his nose. It would seem that it was that time of the day: the emptying of excrements in the stables had officially begun.

The thought of moving to somewhere else was, however, pushed to the back of his mind in favour of Éowyn's quietly uttered words. "You're right, I should turn to another. I don't think I can, though. My ability of locking and pushing away my feelings isn't as strong as that of some, I won't give up until I'm absolutely sure that I stand no chance."

"As you like." Harry replied, opening his eyes to look at her, his green eyes drilling into hers. He wouldn't force the matter upon her, he had told her his opinion and that was all he could do. She was right, pushing away her feelings wouldn't help anything. And even though Harry wanted to shout at her and tell her of the heartbreak that was no doubt headed in her direction he didn't. In the end it was none of his business and it would stay that way until she declared it otherwise.

"I'm sorry," Éowyn whispered. "I shouldn't lay my worries on you. You already have enough to deal with."

"It's fine. I mean, it's not as if I have anything better to do when locked inside that room. Don't worry, lay all your worries on me and good old Harry will take care of them for you." He grinned, his lips stretching wide in order to reveal his teeth. Green eyes twinkled with humour, as his feet leisurely swung back and forth.

A sudden roar sounding from the sky reached his ears, grabbing a hold of his attention. He rose to his feet, gazing up at the sky and catching sight of Leroy weaving in and out of the clouds. Warmth spread through his entire body at the prospect of their reunion. His eyes followed Leroy's every movement until, finally, the dragon had landed safely on the ground. He stood there, waiting as his familiar made its way up to him, claws scraping against the stone stairs.

Abruptly, the dragon was coiled around him, its scaly body wrapping around Harry's more vulnerable one. A soft snout pushed against his neck, a puff of air blowing against the sensitive skin there while a long tongue licked a trail up the span of his neck until it reached his cheek. Content purrs and growls vibrated through Leroy's body as the familiar continued with the many caresses. Shaking hands reached up to grab a hold of hard horns, moving the dragon's head in such a way that green clashed against red and they were gazing at each other. He wanted to cry, to laugh in elation. Their separation had taken more of a toll on him than he would have thought and so now, when Leroy had finally come back to him, the relief was greater than he had ever before felt.

"How odd," A quiet, husky voice suddenly cut through the air. Harry immediately spun around, wincing as his wounds stretched uncomfortably. There, right in front of him, stood Regulus accompanied by a man he could only assume to be Radagast. Short, blond hair was ruffled stylishly in a windswept way. Intrigued, deep brown eyes gazed curiously at the young wizard and his reptile, taking in every detail like a man starved of knowledge and company. The wizard wore tattered, brown robes, looking like they'd never been washed. It was obvious that material things did not matter much to this person. And that looks were not something he strived to take care of. Still, he was handsome, in a roguish and ragged way.

"How odd, indeed," Radagast repeated himself, jumping down from the horse he had been seated on and slowly, with the grace of a predator, made his way towards the source of his fascination. "That he should have his fire on the outside, rather than on the inside where it belongs."

Those brown eyes turned away from them, looking just over Harry's shoulder at something behind them. "Is this your doing, Mithrandir? I know how fond you are of calling forth that fox of yours."

Harry, despite the sudden want to do it, did not spin around. Instead, he stood his ground, staring at the newcomer.

"No, my friend," Gandalf's voice came from behind him. "I had nothing to do with this."

"Then you won't mind if I set things straight, will you?" White teeth peeked out between chapped lips as the man spoke.

"By all means, if you think it necessary."

"Good." A reassuring smile appeared in the wizard's face as he turned back to Harry. "Well then, young Harry. Why don't you, your fire and I take a walk? We have much to discuss, much to learn."

Harry turned around, sending a reassuring smile towards Éowyn as he said, "I'm sorry to cut our time together short, I hope we can do it another time."

The lady merely smiled back, nodding at him before turning and moving back into Meduseld.

"Fire," Radagast began, leisurely strolling by Harry's side as they made their way out of the city and onto the vast fields surrounding Edoras. "Is a powerful element. It can burn you, turn against you and consume you. The fact that your fire has left your body and is walking beside us now is very concerning."

"What do you mean?" He questioned, his head turning to the right in order to establish eye-contact.

"I mean that that dragon of yours was never supposed to have appeared. He's your fire, your element. He's the source to your elemental magic, not a mere familiar as I am sure you have been wrongly informed." There was a slight hint of agitation to the wizard's voice, a sliver that revealed the man's displeasure. "Your fire staying in that form is akin to an animal being captured and kept as a mere pet!"

Blazing brown eyes swivelled around to harshly glare at him, spitting fire. "No animal should ever be robbed of its freedom!"

"So you're saying that because I allow Leroy to roam about freely outside of my body I'm keeping him trapped?" An incredulous expression twisted Harry's features, green eyes shone with disbelief and he nearly faltered in his steps.

"No, you forcing him to stay in the form of a dragon is keeping him trapped. Your so called _Leroy_ should be allowed freedom as fire, not imprisoned as a dragon." Radagast sneered, turning almost hostile in his passion for all living beings. "He should be inside of you. Gandalf should have informed you of this."

"But he didn't."

"No, he did not. And because of this I'll be teaching you how." The wizard seemed to have calmed down, no longer shouting at Harry, but rather talking calmly as if his outburst had never happened. Brown eyes lit up with a glint of sadistic glee as a large grin spread across the blond's face. "Welcome to hell, Harry James Potter."

* * *

While a bit rough around the edges, Harry found Radagast to be a fair and patient teacher. And although the lessons were hard and unrelenting he was slowly, but surely, beginning to improve. It was all about the mind, about control and accepting his emotions. In other words, he needed to reign in his temper and begin acting more mature and like an adult. The first step to that, he realized, would be to relinquish his hold on Leroy and allow the dragon to turn back into the fire he'd originally been. He would have to accept that Leroy's place was not by his side as constant companion, but rather inside of him in his very core, only to be drawn upon when in danger.

Small rivers of sweat ran down his body in a show of perspiration. Long, dark lashes contrasted greatly against pale flesh as they rested lightly upon the thin skin right below a pair of closed eyes. A fit chest, not bulging with muscles, but still flat and broad enough to be considered male rose up and down in an even motion. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, eyes closed and his legs comfortably stretched out before him anyone that just happened to walk by would have considered him to be asleep. The continuous movements beneath those delicate eyelids could have been confused as reactions from a dream. And the slight movement of his lips thought as him merely talking in his sleep. He wasn't though. Harry was perfectly aware of every single thing going on around him, both on the outside and in.

He was in a maze of fragile threads, very much like the one he'd been in when he had first released Leroy, but at the same time not. The darkness was not as dark as he remembered it to be due to the fact that the strings were glowing an unnatural silver. It was easier, much easier, to navigate and find his way back to that room, the one who'd contained the glass sphere. Unlike last time, there were no flames, no red glow and the previously mentioned glass sphere was nowhere to be seen. It was disturbingly empty and cold there.

Not at all what he had been expecting.

Green eyes opened, dazedly blinking before abruptly focusing on the figure sitting before him. "It's empty. Just a labyrinth of threads."

"That's wherein our challenge lay." Radagast replied, stroking his jaw in a musing manner. "We need to fill that space, fill it with fire and the only way to do that is through meditation."

"This'll take a while, won't it?"

"A while, yes." A small smile tugged at the wizard's lips. "Now focus. Close your eyes, clear your mind, it's time we righted everything that should be righted."

And so they did. For hours upon hours they meditated, delving deep into his mind, scrutinizing every single memory he had. Everything needed to be looked at, even the most insignificant of things. It was unnecessary to say that some of the memories were rather unpleasant, things he, had he had any choice, would have avoided rather than face head on. The fact that he had to face said memories in front of Radagast, who was practically a stranger, only served to make it more uncomfortable for him. He pulled through though and when his teacher had finally deigned himself satisfied with Harry's progress he wearily stumbled back to the city and his rooms.

Night had settled down around them and the streets which were usually filled with people was now as barren as a wasteland. It was unusually quiet, nothing like any he had experienced during his stay with the people of Rohan. And he found himself to be treading as carefully as a little mouse in order to preserve the peace and quiet. Snores, which had become so familiar to him during his travels with the Fellowship, reached his ears as he passed by Gimli and Aragorn's room. The dwarf was, obviously, deeply consumed by sleep. And with Aragorn's contribution it almost sounded as if there was an entire orchestra in there.

He continued down the hallway, passing by the two hobbits' room only to discover that the noise coming from behind that door could very well rival that of Gimli and Aragorn. As impossible as it seemed, those little bodies were deceiving, if he hadn't known better he would never have thought them capable of making so much noise. He stopped when reaching the door to the right of Merry and Pippin, resting his hand on the doorknob before gently turning it. The door easily swung open without a single sound, much to his relief.

A wave of cool air greeted him as he entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Goosebumps appeared on his skin as he shuffled over to the bed. Slender hands grabbed a hold of the hem of his shirt, carefully pushing it up to his neck and extracting his arms from the sleeves. White teeth latched onto his lower lip as he raised one hand to drag the shirt over his head, he still hadn't quite recovered after the nazgûl incident. No matter how long Radagast had treated him the wounds hadn't completely healed and each time he moved in a certain way they stretched uncomfortably, almost bordering on pain. In a practised manner he untied the lacing keeping his pants together, allowing them to drop to the floor and reveal the pale skin previously hidden. Apathetically, he stepped out of the pile of fabric, not bothering to pick it up before moving to the bed. Harry drew back the soft covers, gently lowering himself on the padded mattress before drawing the covers back up under his chin and burrowing his face in the fluffy pillow at the top of the bed.

Calmly, he exhaled, his eyes fluttering closed as the results of hours upon hours of meditating and sitting still caught up with him. It had nearly left him more exhausted than quidditch practice normally did, which was a great feat in itself. Mental training, it seemed, was just as exhausting, if not more so, as physical. There was no wonder, Harry mused to himself, that so few wizards and witches knew the art of occlumency; they'd probably collapsed and given up on the first try.

The heavy breathing of Leroy reached his ears and he opened his eyes in order to look at the spot right in front of the fireplace. The dragon's large body was steadily inflating and deflating, moving up and down in a forever lasting breathing pattern. A scaly tale, thick at the base and growing thinner and thinner until it reached the tip, lazily flicked back and forth. He didn't look forward to the day when he would master Radagast's teachings. Not at all. Harry would miss having the goofy dragon by his side, would miss the opportunity of being in the air with him, of being cuddled up to him. In the short time Leroy had been by his side he had managed to worm his way into Harry's heart.

Radagast had been right though. Keeping Leroy by his side for his own selfish reasons wasn't something he was prepared to have on his conscience, fire was meant to be free, not contained. And so, despite how much he dreaded it, he would go through with the training and allow Leroy to return to his original form inside of him. He would let go, for the dragon's own good.

With quiet steps he moved out of bed, dragging the sheets with him to form a sort of shield against the cold. Like a walking blanket he moved towards the reptile, his green eyes fixed upon the shining scales, the hard horns and the soft mane. He wanted to reach out, to stroke along Leroy's spine and confirm that he was in fact real. Harry did not act upon these urges though, not wishing to wake the dragon from his deep sleep.

The raven-hair young man found himself to be caught in a rather melancholy mood as he seated himself down on the rug, thankful for that single barrier between him and the cold stone floor. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them while at the same time making sure that the blanket was covering every inch of him. He looked out the window as he carefully leaned against Leroy's side. The moon was out, casting its light on the world. His breathing evened out as his eyelids grew heavy and nearly impossible to keep up. The vague thought of perhaps moving back to bed crossed his mind for a short second before, just as quickly, it was discarded. No, he was quite comfortable where he was, Leroy was a rather comfortable pillow, even more so than the one laying abandoned on the bed.

"Such a good pillow..."

* * *

**A/N: **So as most of you probably noticed this chapter is very focused on Leroy and Harry and their relationship/connection. Harry is learning that Leroy isn't a pet, nor a familiar, but rather a part of him on a deep level. Leroy is the source to his elemental magic, the one thing that enables Harry to manipulate fire. I feel that it's really important for all of you to understand exactly how important Leroy is to Harry, not just as a companion but also as a part of his magical core. I also tried to keep the mood right at the end there a little melancholy and almost lazy, hopefully I managed that. :D

And while the Harry/Legolas interaction was rather sparse it also plays a large part in this chapter. Harry's more comfortable, more open and affectionate(in his own way) towards the elf and though the scene was small it shows a big step in their relationship.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	32. Night

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **The story has some Slash. (that means boyxboy action.)**  
**

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

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"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will." - Chuck Palahniuk__, 1962-_**  
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**Chapter 32:**

**Night  
**

Sluggishly, green eyes opened. Night still ruled the world, the moon having yet to relinquish its hold to the sun as it steadily shone in through the window. Neither he nor Leroy had moved from their position and so Harry found himself to be comfortably draped across the dragon's body. The blanket, which had previously been wrapped tightly around him, was now pooling around his waist, baring his skin for all to see. Shivers raced through his frame urging him to draw the blanket tighter around him.

A tired sigh escaped the confines of his mouth as he rose from the floor, wandering over to the window despite the icy cold floors. Turning his back on the glass he braced himself on the ledge before heaving himself up to sit on it. Confident that he wouldn't fall down Harry twisted around, leaning against the cold glass as he lifted his bare feet from the floor and tucked them safely into his chest, mimicking the position in which he had fallen asleep. He couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, he concluded.

The sky was clear, littered with stars that were so alien to him that he couldn't recognize a single one. A sudden urge to go outside and escape the many walls closing in on him rose inside of his mind. He was restless. Unable to sleep and without any company to converse with he was becoming fretful. He rose from his seat, moving to pace back and forth in the room, ignoring his freezing toes. Green eyes darted from the window pane over to the solid wooden door before settling on the sleeping figure of Leroy. The dragon's large body moved with each breath and Harry couldn't quite find it in himself to wake him for his own selfish needs. So instead he dropped his blanket and dressed himself before opening the door and heading out of the room.

The cold and clammy air wrapped around him like a thick cover. He lightly dragged his hand along the wall, allowing his fingertips to brush against the hard stone, using it to manoeuvre himself around in the pitch dark. His light footsteps were the only thing that could be heard in the night as he wandered further and further away from his room, closer to the exit of Meduseld. Teeth latched onto his lower lip, abusing it as he opened the doors leading outside. A cold breeze, unusually freezing considering it was summer, washed over him. His hair whipped around him as the wind grew in strength, harshly ruffling his clothing.

Gently, he closed the doors behind him. Moving towards the edge he and Éowyn had been sitting on the previous day. He didn't quite know what to do with himself. He was skittish, his feet swinging back and forth in a stressed way that spoke quite clearly of how unsettled he was. His fingers clenched and unclenched, needing something to do, to hold on to. Had Hermione been there, he fondly mused, she would have sent him an irritated look, thrown a book his way before snapping at him to stop fidgeting. Of course, immediately after she would be out of her seat to recover the book she had so recklessly thrown, gently stroking the covers while shooting him a poisonous look as if it had been his fault she had thrown it in the first place. His heart warmed up at the thought. What he wouldn't do to see her and Ron again, to see their quirks, both good and bad.

He swallowed. The lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe as he tried to keep his tears from running down his face. Harry missed them. Missed seeing their faces in the mornings, missed complaining about Ron's loud snores and Hermione's constant nagging. It was overwhelming him. His emotions spinning out of control and on display for anyone to see. A muffled sob pushed past his lips. An irritated grimace stretched across his features as he furiously wiped away any evidence of him crying. He was being silly, it wasn't time for him to cry about being separated from his friends now. He could have done that when he'd first arrived in Middle-Earth.

With a jerky movement he rose to his feet, the cloak wrapped around his shoulders billowing about him with a dramatic flare. In an agitated manner he rubbed at his face, moving towards the doors as he did so. There was no use crying over spilt milk, what was done was done. Pushing it to the back of his mind would be the best for now. Fists, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, reached up to push the doors open, revealing the poorly lit halls of Théoden's home. He moved inside, wondering why he had even deigned to take a step outside. He couldn't have been out there for more than ten minutes, at the most.

He had, however, no desire to return to his own room. Sleep was still far from his reach and he figured that there wouldn't be any point of returning to bed if he'd only end up tossing and turning. He hated lying in bed, unable to sleep. It was more than frustrating when the unconsciousness he so longed for refused to come, rendering him tired and irritated. Because of that he preferred to be up doing something whenever sleep stayed out of reach. So, due to that, instead of returning to his rooms he walked in the opposite direction.

It didn't take long till he came to a halt before a wooden door. Or to be more exact, the wooden door leading to Legolas and Gandalf's room. The brown colour of the wood seemed almost black when shrouded in the shadows of the night. He raised his hand in the air, his fingers curling inwards and forming a fist as he readied himself to knock on the door. For a split second he hesitated. Perhaps he shouldn't. Perhaps he should leave them be and not listen to his own selfish desires. Wasn't it bad enough that he, himself, couldn't get any sleep without him dragging others into it?

As if his bottom lip hadn't been abused enough that night his teeth once again latched onto it, gnawing and nibbling at it. He seemed to be doing more and more of that nowadays, more so than when he had been back in his own world. Harry licked at his lips, drawing a deep breath before steeling himself and grabbing a hold of the doorknob, pressing down until it opened with a satisfying click. He silently made his way into the room, making sure not to make any noise so as to keep the two occupants from waking. Closing the door behind him, he knelt down to the floor, untied his shoes and put them away.

Heavy breathing, accompanied by Gandalf's light snores, echoed off the walls. They were asleep. Both Gandalf and Legolas were engulfed in the unconsciousness that so persistently avoided him. Without a thought or hesitation he began the process of undressing. Stripping down until he stood there, bare to the world, save for his underwear. He padded over to Legolas' bed, treading lightly.

He swallowed, took a deep breath, lifted the covers and swiftly crawled under them. Immediately, he snuggled up to the elf's warm body. Burrowing his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent that lingered there. Legolas' soft skin felt nice against his own, rubbing against his flesh in a gentle caress. A large, heavy lump began forming in his throat as he smothered the sudden urge to cry for the second time that night. The depressing thoughts were back again, raging in his mind, giving him no peace. It bothered him that he was keeping secrets from Legolas. It pained him that he would deliberately die and leave Legolas behind to fade away. He felt cruel and he wanted nothing more than to reveal it all, to bare his entire soul for the other to see. That, however, would in turn lead to the ruin of his own world, his friends. How was he to choose between friends he had known ever since he was eleven and the love of his life? How was he to choose one world over the other, effectively condemning one of them to ruin? Harry didn't think he was, or could ever be strong enough to do it.

A set of muscular arms wrapped around him, pressing him tightly up against Legolas' chest, leaving no room for air between them. The elf's voice was hoarse with sleep as he lowered his mouth to whisper into his ear. "Something the matter?"

Yes, he wanted to shout. Yes something was wrong! His whole life, his situation was wrong. The fact that he was planning his own death all the while knowing that the whole Fellowship would be left to suffer because of it was horrible. And even though he didn't want to die he was forced to because of the greater good. Because the whole wizarding world was filled with cowardly adults that lay all their worries on the shoulders of a young man with half of their life experience. Because the world was filled with hateful people that held on to their anger, their bitterness and let it out on others in the form of violence, racism and war.

Yet despite wanting to say all that, despite the words already being on the tip of his tongue, he didn't. Instead, he merely replied with a whispered. "No."

A chaste kiss was planted on the skin right below his earlobe as Legolas settled down to sleep again, completely oblivious to Harry's worrisome thoughts. He had become quite good at that, Harry mused, hiding his thoughts from the elf. The blond never seemed to realize that something was going on, that something, very soon, was about to go wrong. In a few weeks, no more than three, the harsh reality would catch up with him. And it would be in the form of Harry's corpse. It would be a rather painful awakening, he imagined. One knowingly caused by said corpse.

He closed his eyes, released a sigh and concentrated on the feel of Legolas' body wrapped around him. Absently he wondered if he'd last, if his soul could take the strain of putting everything on the line again.

* * *

**A/N: IMPORTANT! **Okay, so I know it's a ridiculously short chapter. but I've been extremely frustrated over it, I mean, I've practically gone around tearing my hair out because nothing would come down on paper. So because of that I turned to my beloved beta and asked if He/she had any ideas of how I could get out of the immense writing block I have right now. The answer was: put your hands at your sides, close your eyes and take three deep breaths. He/she (pathetic I know, not remembering the gender of your own beta.) convinced me to leave the chapter as it was and keep it as a short interlude.

So in order for me to get out of this major block( it's horrible, really, I get all skittish and stuff.) I'm asking all of you that actually took the time to read through my rant, if you have any burning questions about the story I would really like it if you could ask them. That way you get me into the process of analyzing everything and that again can be a real kick to the butt, which in turn will probably get me out of the hell hole I am in now. Also, If you have some constructive criticism I would LOVE to hear it.

Besides all that, there is some importance to this chapter, even though I've struggled so with it. The fact that Harry in the end goes to Legolas for comfort( even though he doesn't actually tell the elf that he needs it) is a major step forward in their relationship. Harry is comfortable enough with Legolas to trust him when he's overcome by emotions and is at his most vulnerable state of mind. That something, eh!

This is CrimsonSnowflake, begging for your help.


	33. Yin & Yang

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Contains slash.**  
**

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

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__"I am accustomed to sleep and in my dreams to imagine the same things that lunatics imagine when awake." _- Rene Descartes, 1596 - 1650.**  
**

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**Chapter 33:**

**Yin & Yang  
**

Warmth surrounded him, tightly wrapped around him in a caressing embrace. It filled the air, filled his lungs, his pores. He breathed the warmth, he was the warmth. Like a small fire glowing dimly in the night it resonated from his core, warming him from the inside out. Up and down his chest moved, despite the constricting body, wreathed in flames, draped around his own.

Suddenly, a glowing, blue light appeared before him, moving back and forth in a teasing way. It stayed out of Harry's reach at all times, even when he tried to catch it with his hands. It darted back and forth, up and down and swung around him in circles. Never ceasing to move, never ceasing to glow.

He tried to stand, his muscles flexing under his skin as his thighs worked to bring him to his feet. He couldn't, though. The large body wrapped around him allowed him no movement, imprisoning him in a cell of flesh, scales and flames. The fire did nothing to hurt him, but when he gave a particularly harsh struggle it would heat up uncomfortably against his skin, leaving pinkish flesh in its wake. Not burning, but not quite harmless either.

A low, threatening growl filled the air. It vibrated throughout his body, making it clear that the dragon keeping him prisoner was not at all pleased. Had it been Leroy who was wrapped around him Harry wouldn't have worried, but the fact was that this wasn't his friend. This was an entirely new dragon. Had it not been for the fact that this dragon's colours were the complete opposite from Leroy's he could have mistaken him for his companion. Where Leroy's mane was yellow, this new dragon's was purple. Where Leroy's eyes were red, the other's were green. It continued on in this manner, each colour on the dragon's body was the complete opposite of Leroy's. And yet, despite all this, they were so alike that they could have been considered to be twins.

"There's a dragon here." He whispered, breathing calmly through his nose, knowing that even though he was within his own mind Radagast could still hear him, could still guide him.

There was some mumbling he could not decipher before the wizard's voice rang clear in his head. "Is it hostile?"

"No, not exactly," Harry denied, green eyes gazed into those of his captor, analysing each and every emotion he could pick up. "It's..." He paused for a moment, surprise etched onto his face as he raised one hand to stroke the scales right below the creature's left eye. Even more surprise rushed through him when the dragon allowed the gesture without a sound.

The young wizard picked up from where he had left off, all the while continuing to caress the one before him. "It's more possessive and hurt than hostile."

"Amazing," Radagast murmured in a breathy voice, just high enough so Harry could hear it. Then, in a louder voice he asked. "Could you describe it for me?"

"Imagine Leroy with a purple mane, green eyes and black scales."

"How intriguing, you never cease to surprise me, Harry Potter." Wonder filled the man's voice as he spoke, seeming to grow more and more knowledgeable with each word he said. "This dragon is the other half of your fire, it balances out Leroy's powers and makes them controllable. You could say it's like yin and yang; two opposites coming together to create balance and harmony."

Radagast paused for a moment before continuing. "That's probably the reason why he's possessive and hurt. Up until now Leroy, the lighter part of your fire, has gotten all the attention, all the love. He was never discovered and as such he believes that you prefer Leroy over him. You could say that the two of them are very much like siblings competing for the attention of their parents. I'm afraid this could prove to be rather troublesome."

"How so?" He inquired, all the while looking at the dragon with a new light of understanding flaring up inside of him. How could he have missed it? How could he have overlooked something as important as this?

"Because, if you are to return Leroy into your core this jealousy needs to eliminated. Otherwise they'll begin fighting over the rights to you and that could very well tear you up from the inside out. Dragons are notoriously possessive creatures, Harry. The two of them need to be in harmony, always." A hint of worry had slipped into the wizard's voice now, unsettling Harry as he had never heard anything like it from the other.

"And how do I do that?"

"By making him trust you and bargaining with him. You need to make him promise not to fight and give him something in return. Quite simple, really." There was a slight tint of sarcasm dripping from Radagast's last words that informed Harry that bargaining with a dragon was anything but simple.

All the same, it had to be done and if what Radagast said was true then Harry should be able to tame this new dragon residing within him just as he had with Leroy. It couldn't possibly be that difficult, could it? Green eyes took in the dragon's appearance and a sliver of doubt appeared in him. It could and most likely was, if the creature's stubborn glare was an indicator.

A warm puff of air washed over his face as the dark dragon exhaled. It felt as if a thin thread had suddenly wrapped around his heart, leading out of his body and to that of the dragon. A completely unexpected flash of loneliness pierced through him and by the hurt shining in the other's eyes it was quite clear where it had come from. He inhaled sharply, reaching up to caress the hard scales covering the creature's body. Betrayal, hurt, envy and loneliness all swirled around inside of him, each and every emotion transferred from the dragon to him. He could feel exactly how hurt the dragon had felt when Harry had discovered Leroy and not him, how betrayed it had felt when Harry had named Leroy and not him, how envious it was that Harry had ridden Leroy's back and not his. It was an endless myriad of feelings that completely overwhelmed him and lured out an immense guilt within him.

"I'm sorry I never saw you." He whispered, his voice nearly cracking as tears fought to appear in his eyes. "I'm sorry I never felt you."

A low growl reverberated from the dragon's chest and into his own. His body began tingling with a strange numbness, as if an insane amount of electricity had been forced in under his skin. Unwillingly, he stopped moving. His muscles refusing to obey his commands as a mild streak of panic began racing through his nerves. Suddenly those green eyes seemed much more intimidating.

"I...I need you to do something for me." He braved with a shaky voice as the hard scales dug into his flesh, nearly cutting his skin. "And in return I'll give you anything you want."

Another growl, this one more amiable than the other had been, rumbled into the air. A curious glint lit the green eyes that were so like his own, making them sparkle and shine in a way Harry had never seen before. By these few signs it was becoming obvious that the creature was willing to consider the young wizard's offer. Though, if it would go through with it was an entirely different matter.

"I need you to let me bring Leroy back in here without attacking him," he explained. White teeth abused an already plump lower lip, forcing it to bruise and swell even further. Everything depended upon the dragon's answer. If Harry's magic was to balance itself then Leroy needed to be inside of him, and if Leroy was to be inside of him the two dragons needed to get along. It all depended on the creature that felt as if Harry had ignored him in favour of it's twin.

The scaly body tightened uncomfortably around him, clutching him so tightly that he feared it would squash him. The squeeze seemed to have been only meant as a warning, as if to say stay here or I'll crush you like a bug. And just like that it loosened and the dragon deigned him worthy of a shallow nod. He had been given permission.

"Everything's clear here, what do I do now?" Harry questioned.

"Close your eyes, clear your mind and concentrate on Leroy."

So he did. With a deep breath he focused on every moment, every feeling he had experienced with the dragon. His entire being was filled with Leroy's essence, his smell, the feel of him. Everything. And, accompanied with a loud bang and a bright flash, Leroy suddenly appeared right in front of him.

Following this event, several things occurred at the same time. In only seconds Harry had been yanked back and behind the darker dragon, clutched tightly by it's tale. Growls immediately filled the air, one concerned and the other triumphant. And when he looked up at the one holding him captive Harry could see a smug glint shining in the eyes that were so like his own. It was as if the dragon was taunting Leroy. As if it was saying, he's mine now.

Strangely enough the whole scene reminded him of two small children fighting over a prized teddy bear. Which was absolutely ridiculous in itself because the two large dragons were obviously not children and Harry refused to think of himself as something as cuddly as a teddy bear. Yet the image kept popping up, making it difficult for him to think of the situation as something serious and dangerous. Leroy baring his teeth and readying to attack managed to shake him out of that absurd notion, however.

"No! Down boy!" he shouted," Don't you dare start a fight when I've been working to prevent it!"

An agitated whine rang in his ears as Leroy took a hesitant step forward, eyes darting back and forth between Harry and the other. It almost seemed as if everything stopped breathing while the light scaled dragon took in the situation. Critical red eyes scanned the two standing before him like a scientist would stare at a new discovery. The tension in the air was high strung. And, as silly as it sounded, had Harry been in the possession of a knife he would have attempted to cut through it.

"You both belong here, and as such you'll both have to get used to the idea of cooperating. I don't have the time to babysit the two of you, so you'll just have to figure it out amongst yourself." The young wizard looked from one dragon to the other, his green eyes glinting with seriousness. It was true, he didn't have the time to teach them how to get along with each other. The duration of time it would take was too much when his focus should be on the happenings of the outside world and not on those in his mind. He knew, as it was glaringly obvious, that the war was just beyond their doorstep, closing in on them with each minute that passed.

He turned to the one keeping him captive, "I'll have to leave now, call for me when you've decided upon my end of the bargain."

With that, he closed his eyes within his mind and opened them in the real world. The sudden onslaught of colours caught him off guard. Compared to the darkness of his own mind the real world was too light, it cut into his eyes as if he was staring at the sun. To his left Radagast sat, impossible to read as always.

"It's done."

* * *

The prospect of seeing Saruman again was not something he was looking forward to. The memory of being suspended in the air and thrown around like a rag doll was still fresh in his mind, it was not something he wanted to experience again. The helplessness he had felt at being held by nothing but the invisible strings of the other's magic, to be unable to control his own bodily functions. He would rather face Voldemort than have to experience that again. Just like any sane person, he didn't like being helpless, doing everything in his power to keep it from happening again. It was quite plain to see that he would have preferred to be snuggled up on a couch in front of a warm, crackling fire instead of riding on a horse towards Isengard. The icy wind that hit his skin only served to strengthen that want.

"You didn't have to come, you know," Regulus commented on his right, "Gandalf and I are perfectly capable of handling Saruman."

"No, it's fine. I wouldn't have gone with you if I didn't want to." He paused for a moment to send the other wizard a fleeting smile, "besides, the more the merrier, right?"

"Indeed it is, Harry!" Gandalf said as he rode up to them, abandoning his conversation with Aragorn and Legolas in favour of joining theirs. "I'm so glad to hear that you are so enthusiastic about this meeting, I thought you didn't much care for it what with your last meeting with Saruman."

"Oh, yes, I'm ecstatic at the thought of meeting him again. He made such a good impression the last time." Harry drawled, sending the white clad wizard a wry look.

"Well," Gandalf murmured, "He was in one of his bad moods, I suppose."

"Really? Then I'm sure I'll be enraptured by him this time around." One had to be particularly dim-witted to not catch the sarcasm that laced his words.

Silence settled between them as they breached the borders of Fangorn forest, ducking under branches, manoeuvring their way around tree trunks. He stroked the neck of his horse, both for his own and the beast's comfort. Even if he had already visited the dark and gloomy forest once before it was an entirely different experience entering it on a horse's back, than on a dragon's. It was much more intimidating as the trees loomed over him, more than they had when he had been there with Leroy. The fact that escape had only been a few wing flaps away had also helped, but now that option was no longer available.

"Are you afraid?" Legolas' whispered words reached his ears as the elf gracefully steered his horse along side Harry's, not caring that he had a curious dwarf sitting behind him and listening to each word they uttered.

"No," He scoffed, as if having just heard the most ridiculous thought, "Why would I be afraid?"

"Why wouldn't you?" The elf shot back, "It's perfectly natural to be, you know."

"I'm not afraid, just cautious. We don't know what we'll meet at Isengard and I, for one, don't like the idea of walking straight into a trap." And he truly was. Harry had experienced Saruman's powers for himself, he knew that the wizard was, by no means, weak. There was no knowing how Saruman would react when cornered. The odds of him attacking them was, to be honest, very big. So, no, Harry was not afraid, but he did prefer to be prepared rather than being caught by surprise and risking the loss of lives.

They didn't speak much after that. The heavy atmosphere that seemed to have sneaked upon them, stifled any desire to converse. And Harry became so immersed in his own mind, his own thoughts that he barely noticed as the scenery passed by them and they finally reached their destination. The great tower that was Saruman's residence loomed over them like a dark cloud covering the sky. Water flooded the whole area. It was plain to see that some serious damage had been done to the place. Wood floated on the water's surface, moving up and down, left and right according to the waves' movements.

"Young master Gandalf!" A strangely familiar, baritone voice reached them as they passed a ruined brick wall. "Welcome you are. Bricks and stones I can manage, but we have a raging wizard at hand here, whom I am afraid I am not inclined, nor capable of handling."

"Then it is fortunate that that is my reason for coming, is it not?" Gandalf, as cheerful as ever, replied. With a smile on his face, the old man led them towards the entrance to Saruman's large tower. The sound of water sloshing made it to his ears as the horses' hooves splashed into the liquid. Treebeard fell into a slow stride beside them, his large feet moving fluidly through the water, barely stirring it at all.

"Harry," The wizard draped in white called, "Come here, please. I would like for you to stay by my side when we meet him, it's...it's for the best."

Without a word Harry complied, sending Legolas one last look before urging his horse to speed up until he was riding at Gandalf's side. A strong gust of wind rustled their clothing as they, after several minutes of moving, finally came to a stop before the great stairs leading into Saruman's abode. His body began shivering, affected by the cold edge to the wind as it managed to lift up his clothes and worm its way to his skin. Goosebumps quickly formed on his vulnerable flesh.

Green eyes narrowed as they darted back and forth, looking for any signs of the wizard in hiding. The silence that stretched on was unnerving, it almost seemed unnatural. Not even the basic sounds like those of birds singing, or the wind disturbing the trees, could be heard. The whole atmosphere had an eerie touch to it, serving to strengthen Harry's anxiousness. His grip on the reigns tightened as he sat up straighter, the muscles in his back flexing with each movement. The wait was excruciating and he wanted nothing more than to jump down from his horse and set out to find Saruman on his own. He had always been more of a doer than a waiter. And this feature was becoming rather prominent by the way he was constantly shifting in the saddle.

"Saruman!" Gandalf suddenly shouted, his voice cutting harshly through the silence, echoing in the air.

Slowly, hunched over and truly looking like an old man well into his 90s, Saruman made himself known. It was quite clear that the wizard was tired. The glow that had been around him the last time Harry had seen him was no longer there. All in all, the one had been so nervous to meet was nothing like he had been before. He was no longer the intimidating and powerful man Harry had thought him to be. Saruman had, for the lack of better words, withered into nothing but the shadow of his former self. And despite knowing better Harry found himself pitying the man.

"Have you come here to gloat, Gandalf the _Grey_?" He sneered, making sure to emphasise the word grey. "Have you come here to humiliate me some more? To rub it in that the young one would prefer your company over mine?"

Dark eyes turned to look at Harry, a sort of longing glint to them that made him seem even more defeated than he already was. The long beard, which was stained with patches of black, looked unkempt. The white hair hung limply in strands coated with grease. Even despite the distance between them it was plain to see that Saruman had given up on grooming himself and giving a good first impression.

Saruman drew a deep breath in through his nose, as if smelling the air before closing his eyes in what seemed to be relief and whispering, "Harry."

* * *

**A/N: **So I would have wanted this chapter to be a little longer, but as it was I found the place where I ended it to be a rather fitting one. Not much action going on in this chapter, but there are still some things happening.

I would also like to thank all of you who took the time to read through my author note in the last chapter and sent me a review with some questions on it. They really helped me get through the writer's block so hugs and kisses to all of you for that! :D


	34. Dark Lord Here, Dark Lord There

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **Slash! No heavy stuff though.**  
**

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

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_

_"But now I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth." - Umberto Eco, 1932-?_

_

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_

**Chapter 34:**

**Dark Lord Here, Dark Lord There.**

**There's A Dark Lord Everywhere!  
**

There was a sense of foreboding that rose like a roaring monster within him. The hairs on his body stood on end. His breath froze before it could escape the confines of his throat and he suddenly found himself to be choking on his own tongue. Those dark eyes, those bottomless dark eyes that shone with a strangely perverted light scared the hell out of him. They traced his body as if obsessed, taking in every single detail, from the strands on top of his head to the shoes adorning his feet. The fear that took a hold of him made it seem as if his victory over Saruman had never occurred. It was as if he was just a witless, silly, little child.

Nothing in the world existed beside himself and the wizard. It was almost like Saruman was looking straight into his soul. Like he was grabbing a hold of him and controlling him like puppeteer would his puppet. Strings were attached to his limbs, keeping him frozen on top of his horse. Was it supposed to be like this? Was Saruman supposed to be capable of grabbing a hold of his attention like that?

"You are finally whole, Harry." The fallen wizard breathed, once again drawing a deep breath as if sniffing the air. His eyes fluttered closed, relishing whatever he smelled. He almost seemed to be intoxicated. "How you have grown since we last met."

Harry stayed silent. He was staring straight forward while his fingers clutched hard at the leather saddle beneath him.

"Harry?" A concerned voice hesitantly said, flowing into his ears like a gentle whisper. "Are you well?"

"I-I...Can't..." He forced out an incomplete sentence, still rooted in the same position. He couldn't breathe.

The sudden warm touch of a hand upon his shoulder shook him out of the trance he had been in. His chest moved up and down in frantic movements while he gasped for breath. It almost seemed as if his body truly had been frozen in time, as if it hadn't been breathing or functioning properly. A coughing fit wrecked his body as trembling hands immediately grabbed a hold of his throat. He slumped forward in the saddle, his forehead landing on the neck of his horse. Green eyes filled with pained tears. It felt as if someone had been restraining him by way of choking. Harry could almost feel those cold, invisible hands fastened onto his vulnerable neck, applying enough pressure so as to keep him quiet.

"Harry?" The voice he now recognized to be Legolas' rang in his ears, troubled and more urgent than it had been.

"It's...I-I'm fine." He sounded hoarse, like a person not having spoken for a year would. The young wizard dismissed the comforting hand the elf had placed upon his back, right between his shoulder-blades.

"Saruman!" Gandalf's enraged voice echoed in the air, carried by the wind as the wizard sat up straight. "Keep your devious tricks inside your sleeve! We do not have the time nor the patience to deal with your devices!"

"I am sure our dear Harry here would not mind amusing an old man. Think of all the things he could learn through my devious _tricks,_ as you put them." Saruman sneered, eyeing Legolas' hand in distaste. Then he added, as if he was not on Sauron's side and it was his business to do so, "You should not let him be tainted by this elf's filth, Gandalf. He should be with those of his own kind, not breeding cross species and keeping in his company those that are unworthy."

As he listened to Saruman's words, Harry got the strangest feeling that when the wizard said ' his own kind' what he really meant was himself. The mere notion sent a shiver through his body, a shiver so great that it shook his frame. As handsome as the wizard looked to have been in his youth Harry had no wish or desire of joining with him. The fact that Saruman thought he would be agreeable to it repelled him on the highest level.

"Unworthy?" Harry heard Legolas whisper in a harsh, disbelieving voice. His blue eyes were narrowed in loathing. Despite the peacefulness of the elves it was quite clear that Legolas loathed Saruman. To be honest Harry couldn't blame him. He would have hated anyone that called him unworthy of his predestined mate too.

"Yes," Saruman immediately spat back, proving his extraordinarily good hearing, "Unworthy! I will not have such potential waste away into nothing. He could be great, so long as he is with someone worthy. You, however, would slow him down and keep him from his true destiny!"

"And what destiny would that be?" Harry finally butted in, protectiveness rearing up inside of him. He didn't much appreciate the way the wizard was talking to his elf. Yes, he would easily admit that Legolas was his. The time for denial had long since passed and now it was finally time for him to mature and accept everything that accompanied a relationship with Legolas: The good, the bad and the catastrophic.

"Why do you think the Nine are after you, Harry? What could the reason for their continuous hunt be?"

"How the hell should I know?" He crudely answered, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took in the all knowing smile spreading across Saruman's ageing face. "You are the one in lead with their master, not I."

"He wants you. He craves you. And the Dark Lord Sauron shall have you. It's only a matter of time." A dry laugh escaped the wizard, forcing him to lean on his staff to ride it out. No matter how confident he seemed when talking, it was becoming obvious that his body was not in any shape to back it up.

"Why?" Narrowed green eyes gazed at the other with suspicion. Now that Saruman no longer controlled his body he could feel his confidence rising. "What could he want with me?"

"Your body, your heart and your soul; everything you are he wants to possess."

"Saruman!" Gandalf suddenly shouted, drawing the wizard's attention away from Harry and onto himself. A small concerned glint shone in his eyes. "You were deep within the enemy's council, help us. Denounce the dark lord's sway over you and join us."

"Join you?" He scoffed, "Why should I join the ones destined to fail? I may be fading away, but I would rather do so in peace than having to suffer being tortured through it."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because it's the right thing to do!" Harry butted in ignoring the warning glare Gandalf sent him.

Then, as if appearing out of nowhere a hunched over figured moved out from behind the tall, old man. It took Harry several minutes to recognize the pale man. Gríma Wormtongue with his light, almost grey skin, watery eyes and greasy hair was a rather pathetic sight. It was one that seemed to beg for pity.

"Gríma..."That plea was answered by the most unlikely person. It surprised him that even though Gríma had played a part in the manipulations of Théoden, the man still found it in him to show him some mercy. "Come here, Gríma. You do not need to follow him. You were once a proud man of Rohan!"

"A proud man of Rohan?" Saruman mocked, turning to sneer down at Théoden. "In Rohan where children roll in the dirt with dogs and the men are nothing but a bumbling bunch of undeserving drunkards: 'A proud man of Rohan', indeed."

What had once been a situation where they were in control, had now turned into a one-man show. Saruman had single handedly turned the wheels with his insults and his sharp tongue. Harry had no problem seeing how Gandalf could have been fooled into believing the wizard to be good. Saruman was a master in the art of deceiving, of seducing people with words. It was obvious that he could use this talent both ways. He could build someone up, or tear them down. He was a charismatic man and Harry was not ashamed to admit he was weary of him. After all, who wouldn't be?

"Don't look." Legolas suddenly came from behind him, wrapping his arm around Harry's neck and forcing his face to take refuge in his clothed chest.

A sickening thud filled the air and Harry stiffened as the sound slammed against his eardrums. With some difficulty, the elf could be rather persistent when he wanted to be, he extracted himself from Legolas' embrace and turned around to look at what had happened. How he could have missed it happening was a mystery. For there, impaled upon the sharp barbs sticking up from the water wheel's frame, was Saruman's white clothed body. Dark red blood stained the wizard's pristine outfit, mocking the man's previous title. Saruman the white no longer existed.

Looking up he could see Gríma, his upper-body hanging off the edge of Isengard with an arrow sticking out of his chest. Every now and then he would give a little twitch, the last spasm before the soul left his body, no doubt.

Complete and utter silence reigned as the wheel suddenly began spinning, taking the limp body with it. A shudder went down his spine as he looked into the soulless, dark eyes situated in that pale face. It was as if they were staring straight through him. Only a few seconds passed before Saruman was entirely immersed in the cold, murky water. And it might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn someone whispered into his ear, _"Everything you are he must have."_

Unnecessary as it was to say, it was creeping him out.

* * *

There was something in the atmosphere, something that kept sending shivers down along his spine. There was a tension, an anticipation of something that had every hair on his body standing on end. The feeling that something was about to happen wouldn't leave him. It kept a hold of him, keeping him wrapped tightly within its grasp. Never releasing him. This feeling, this hunch was so strong that it even managed to prevent him from enjoying the festivities going on around him. And this in turn made him feel out of place. As if he didn't belong in the middle of all the happiness. This was, of course, was a ridiculous thought for him to have.

"Are you worried?" Gandalf took a seat beside him, sending an inquiring glance his way before turning to watch the two hobbits dancing upon the table.

"About what?"

"Saruman's words." A small smile graced those chapped lips as Merry and Pippin finished their song only to begin with another straight away.

"I should be, shouldn't I?" He took a sip from the wine held in his hand, savouring the taste.

"Oh yes, very much so. In fact, you should be drinking yourself silly at this very moment because of how worried you should be." All this was said in such a pleasant voice that it seemed as if they were merely discussing the weather.

"I'm a failure at worrying," Harry played along, his eyes watering as he turned to look at the older man with a pleading look. "Teach me Gandalf! Teach me how to worry!"

Gandalf sighed, took a deep breath and seemed to steal himself. All in all, he looked very much like a person about to deliver the worst of news. "I'm sorry, my dear Harry. You are a hopeless case. Not even I can teach you how to truly worry. I'm afraid you're doomed to be a man free of worries for the rest of your life."

And then, in a staged move, Harry dropped to his knees and moaned out, "No, tell me it's not true!"

"And what is this? Have you finally driven him insane, Gandalf?" Aragorn stood before them, his grey eyes shining with amusement. "I thought we agreed on waiting until Legolas had been taken care of."

"Alas, Aragorn, the opportunity presented to me was too delectable to resist. I fell victim to the ruthlessness of temptation. Should we kill him and hide the remains? It wouldn't do for people to find out that we drove him to insanity, now would it?"

"Ha, bloody, ha. I'm dying of laughter here if you didn't see." Harry drawled, having risen from the floor and seated himself again.

"Oh good, he's doing the job for us." Gandalf beamed.

"You know," Harry began, motioning with his hands towards the other side of the room. "I could just go over there and spare myself from your excruciatingly dry wit. I don't think I could survive otherwise."

"No, no. You stay here. I can't have you walking away just because you don't understand the comical genius that I am. I'll stop." The old man assured him, grabbing a hold of his hand and sending him a placating smile.

"I'm saying this despite the fact that you've most likely heard it before, but Gandalf, you really are full of shit at times." He grinned, and in a rather childish move blew him a raspberry. With that he jumped up from his seat and headed towards the exit, his grin growing even wider as Aragorn's roaring laughter reached his ears.

The cold night air was a refreshing change from the overbearing warmth that had surrounded him inside. Stars littered the sky, surrounding the bright moon like little children would their mother. Not a single cloud obscured his view of them. Step by step he moved towards the stairs, intent on sitting down on the cold stone and enjoy the sight before him. His plans were, however, spoiled as he caught sight of the cloaked figure standing on the exact spot he had been planning to sit down on.

Hesitating for a moment he considered the possibility of turning around and returning to the festivities. He immediately discarded the thought, the stairs could easily be shared. There was no need for him to retreat just because someone else got there before him.

"Are you planning on standing there all night, then?" An impatient voice shattered the calm silence that surrounded them. Strong hands reached up to grasp at the rough fabric of the man's hood, effortlessly pushing it down to reveal soft looking blond curls. The locks framed Radagast's face in a rather flattering way, bringing out his deep brown eyes. Had it not been for the fact that he already had Legolas, Harry would have no problem hooking up with the wizard. He was, after all, a rather fine contribution to the more masculine sex.

"You don't mind the company?" Harry questioned, moving towards the other with small, hesitant steps. His hesitancy was, however, a mistake. He should have known better. From his dealings with Radagast he already knew that the man was not patient, nor would he ever be.

And this Radagast proved in a rather efficient way when he immediately spun around, glare firmly situated upon his face and hissed, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get your arse in gear, I don't have all night you know!"

Immediately, Harry quickened his steps, hurrying to reach the man's side.

"You will have to choose, you know." Radagast, having calmed himself, murmured when Harry settled down to sit to his left. "You can't go on like you have. The elf has to know."

"How? How am I supposed to choose between my friends and my mate? How am I supposed to abandon any of them?"

"You'll do it because you have to. You do it by making an evaluation of who it is that needs you the most. You have no choice in this, Harry. Having both is not an option." There was a finality to his voice that immediately shot down his thoughts of perhaps going back to his world, defeating Voldemort, saying goodbye to his friends and then returning to Middle Earth and Legolas' awaiting arms. It was a ridiculous plan, really. Even he could admit to that.

Still, he couldn't resist saying, with his lips forming a slight pout, "Easy for you to say, isn't it? You're not the one who has to do it."

"I am in no mood, Harry, to deal with your relapse back into the stage of pubescent behaviour at the moment. Deal with it, or at the very least do me the favour of waiting until you are no longer in my presence to voice your complaints." Radagast snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Believe me, there are things more important than your meaningless drama."

"Radagast!" Regulus shouted, storming up to them. "That is enough. Do not take your frustrations out on Harry."

"How can I not take it out on him?" The wizard shouted back, just as enraged as the other. "He has everything before him, every possible opportunity to live a happy life and he still refuses to acknowledge it! Someone has to drill it into his thick skull, Regulus! And since you and Gandalf refuse to take on this task, it seems that I have no other option but to do it myself!"

"What he chooses has nothing to do with us. This is his own choice, not yours. You can't relive your life through him, Radagast. You made your choice, we all did." Regulus' voice softened, his features along with it. With a slight hand movement he motioned for Harry to leave, moving closer to his fellow wizard while Harry disappeared inside.

The last Harry could hear of their conversation were Regulus' muttered words, "Just because you feel as if you made the wrong choice, that doesn't mean he will."

And it was with that Harry realized that he didn't know Radagast nearly as well as he had thought he did.

* * *

"_Has he completed the task yet?" An icy cold voice hissed, spitting out words that were practically drenched with impatience. _

"_Not yet, my lord." A masked figure, cloaked in black bowed before the other man, going so far as dropping to his knees. _

"_What is keeping him then?" _

"_He has yet to figure out a way for the cabinet to transport a large amount of people, my lord." The man, still as calm and submissive as ever, answered in a monotone voice. Though at the displeased hiss flowing across the dark lord's non-existent lips he hurried to add, "Though he should be finished within three weeks or so." _

"_Three weeks is too long. He was given a deadline, Severus, and I expect him to keep it. He has two weeks, and no more. And if he fails...well, I think you know the prize of failure, my friend." There was this viciously mocking tone to Voldemort's voice that made it painfully clear that this man, kneeling down before him, was anything but his friend. _

"_O-of course, my lord." Severus, for once, stuttered. The threat had not passed him by and he realized that if Draco was to fail, then the young Malfoy wouldn't be the only one on the end of Lord Voldemort's wand. _

"_Now leave me!" A loud crack immediately echoed in the room. _

"_Soon," The dark lord sighed, his red eyes closing for a split second. "Soon I will have you back just in time to witness the diminish of your precious friends. My dear, dear Harry." _

_Red eyes snapped open, "I will have you yet, love." _

In an entirely different world green eyes snapped open, pupils narrowed and fear shining in his eyes. A scream accompanied his awakening. A scream not his own. And although he should have reacted, he should have jumped out of his bed and figured out what was going on, he couldn't. He was numb, unable to move a limb. All due to this horrible realization that had come with a dream.

He was running out of time.

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**A/N: **So, my beta made me realize that the time for inner reflection and character development is over. It's time for me to get on with the plot and that was what I was trying to do with that last bit there. And I know, it's a little freaky that Voldemort is calling Harry love and all that, but I feel that it is probable for his obsession with him to have developed to the point where he thinks he loves Harry and feels as if he should belong to him. A completely insane thought, but I'm afraid to say that Voldemort has never come off to me as very sane.

I don't really have much more to comment on so i'll just leave it at that. Any questions you might have I would love to answer! ( hint hint)

CrimsonSnowflake


	35. Impulsiveness Of Youth

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**Warning: **There is some fighting in this one, but since this is M rated I expect that most of you can handle it. **  
**

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_"An engaged woman is always more agreeable than a disengaged. She is satisfied with herself. Her cares are over, and she feels that she may exert all her powers of pleasing without suspicion. All is safe with a lady engaged; no harm can be done." - _Jane Austen, 1775-1817

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**Chapter 35:**

**Impulsiveness Of Youth  
**

It was as if he was frozen in time without any control over his body whatsoever. Everything that went on around him seemed to pass in blurry motions as his green eyes frantically flitted back and forth. It was as if the whole world had suddenly begun turning in slow motion and only Harry was moving at a normal speed. Every scream that filled the room, every concerned shout only registered in his mind as muffled groans of something. The fact that he had managed to pick up on so many of the things going on around him was a miracle in on itself as the majority of his brainpower was focused on one thing only. Voldemort.

It would seem that no matter how far he went, even to an entirely different world, his connection with the dark lord could never be severed. And the fact that Voldemort seemed to know exactly where he was and how he had gotten there was truly foreboding. If he didn't do something, and soon, his destiny would be in the hands of his enemy. And he was sure that nothing short of the devil himself could leave him more doomed than that.

His head was throbbing as his scar nearly vibrated with a splitting pain. He could feel a current of blood flowing down his face, nearly running into his eyes, sending shivers through him as it reached his neck and wormed its way under his night shirt. The urge to reach up and wipe away the blood and clutch at his scar in attempt to ease the pain was strong, but no matter how much he tried his limbs refused to obey. His muscles trembled and flexed in a major attempt at moving, yet they were as useless as a fish without fins. In other words, Harry was as vulnerable as a newborn baby.

The chaos around him did nothing to reassure him as he lay there, as still as a log. The constant sound of footsteps running back and forth accompanied by the shouts and screams made him anxious. So much so that he would have given a limb to know what was going on. A booted foot, black leather to be more precise, entered his sight, stopping right before him as an answer to his silent pleas. Strong hands, warm and sure in their touch, immediately began tending to him. Wiping away the trail of blood on his face and moving away the hair covering his forehead in order to reveal the irritated scar.

"You need to snap out of it, Harry." Regulus' quiet voice reached him, revealing the identity of the one taking care of him. "Unless you want the others to realize that something is wrong."

That did it for him. As if having been broken out of some sort of spell he gasped for breath, shot straight up and clung to his teacher for support. His whole body trembled with suppressed shivers. Voldemort's words were still stuck on to his mind and the mere notion of them becoming true filled him with horror.

"I-I need to get out of here." He whispered, his voice hoarse, "Now, Regulus!"

Through the haze filling his mind, the need to get enough oxygen into his lungs and the horrific realisation that he didn't have much time left, he dimly realized that he was having something of a panic attack. Everything was spinning around him, the room and the people in it, like a great hurricane on the verge of destroying an entire city. And in a way that was exactly what was happening. His world, this world was on the brink of destruction. Harry no longer had months on him to deal with this and if his suspicions were right he didn't even have weeks.

Yes, he needed to get out of there. He had things to do, a fight to prepare for and a life to forfeit. There was no time to spare. Once again he urged Regulus to get him out of there—his voice taking on a more desperate tone. Had he been in a right state of mind he would have realized how much of a mistake it was of him to try to get away from the Fellowship without a word. They would be concerned and Legolas would most likely be so focused on finding him again that he would be distracted from keeping himself alive. As it was though, Harry was not thinking clearly and was acting purely on emotions. An error he would regret in the days to come.

And so, under the cover of the chaos around them, Regulus and Harry managed to gather a small amount of their belongings—only the necessities, mind you—and left the room. The coldness of the air was a pleasant contrast to the suffocating warmth that had been inside and the young wizard found that he could breathe more effortlessly, not having to take deep breaths in order to provide for himself the sufficient amount of oxygen that was needed. Darkness immediately cloaked them, hiding their presence and making their escape that much easier.

"Can you walk on your own?" Regulus questioned when they arrived down at the stables, eyes flitting back and forth on the outlook for the stable boy.

"Yeah, sure," he panted, leaning on the wooden door they had just entered through when his companion released him. With half lidded eyes he watched as Regulus saddled a horse, gathering all the necessary equipment all the while stroking the beast's neck in a soothing manner. It amazed him how his teacher could manage to stay as calm in a situation as this.

"I hope you realize that this is a most irrational and unwise move on your part, Harry. There are more efficient ways than this to prepare for the upcoming battle, my friend. "

"I know that," He carelessly waved his hand in the air, as if swatting at a fly, "but I won't be able to prepare for the upcoming two weeks when in the presence of Legolas. He'll distract me, make me want to stay behind—stay alive."

"Only if you allow him to—" The grey eyed wizard began.

"How can I not allow him?" Harry abruptly cut the other off. "He gets to me, Regulus! He influences me on a level I've allowed no other to ever influence me on before! So long as I'm near him I won't be able to do what is necessary."

"And what do you believe is necessary?" Regulus questioned after a moment of silence.

He closed his eyes, his hands trembling for a moment before he got a hold of himself, clenched them into tight fist and opened his eyes. "I need to die, of course."

"Of course you do."

The wind picked up, chasing the clouds away from the moon, allowing its light to shine down on the world. Leafs rustled, flying back and forth in random directions as the branches they were situated upon swung back and forth in union with the tree's motion. The sound of hooves hitting the ground echoed in the air as a dark horse, carrying two figures, one slim and on the shorter side, the other tall and well-built, rode off into the night. Galloping at breakneck speed as if they had the very Devil on their heels they rode away from Edoras, from their companions and, most likely, right into the arms of death. All the while unaware of the mess they would leave behind.

* * *

The usual reaction when abandoned by a loved one is, in most cases, anger and a stinging feel of betrayal on a level most deep. Disbelief is usually the first of many emotions to come when the news are told. As the knowledge slowly seeps into ones brain and the treachery gradually, but surely, settles in anger is normally the next emotion to arrive. And as this anger is fed by the bitterness of one's loss it grows into rage until, finally, one can no longer hold it in and it bursts out in a rather violent manner.

Elves, being the tranquil creatures that they were, did not react to the loss of a mate in such a manner, however. They were much more subtle, much more silent than the race of men when expressing their sorrows. And Legolas was the perfect example of this.

All colour had escaped the elf's face, the blood draining from his head, leaving behind it a rather sickly paleness. Those blue eyes, always sparkling with some kind of hidden emotion, were dull and drawn. Furthermore, even Legolas' long, blond hair seemed to have lost all its shine. On the whole it was as if Harry leaving had drained the elf of his very soul. The body, slumped on the floor with only the wall behind him to keep him upright, was merely an empty vessel, a useless shell no longer in use. Only quiet whispers escaped the chapped and trembling lips, and even those were so quiet that the onlookers had to strain to heart them.

"Where is he? Where is my love?" Was the continuous mantra that was repeated again and again.

"Gandalf..." A cautious Aragorn broke the silence that had followed, looking at the old wizard with a concerned expression on his face.

The tall, bearded man stepped forward, pointing his staff at the distressed elf and muttered a quiet incantation, watching as the elf's entire body relaxed into consciousness and ignoring the way those blue eyes stayed open. He would be having a serious talk with both Harry and Regulus when he next saw them. Honestly, leaving right after Harry so obviously had accepted Legolas' courtship. Of Harry he could understand it, had maybe even expected it, the young man was rather impulsive after all. Regulus, however, should have known better.

With a frown drawing his face down, he moved towards the door, an unconscious elf floating along behind. He ignored the inquisitive gazes of his companions in favour of reaching is destination: Harry's room. Only one thing could calm Legolas now and that would be his mate, safe and back in his arms. As that was no longer possible they would have to settle for the next best thing, Harry's scent. Gandalf was quite certain that letting the elf rest in Harry's bed, the place practically drenched in the young wizard's scent, was the only thing that could calm him enough so that they could talk. And talk they needed to.

When he had safely situated the blond in the soft bed Harry had been occupying nearly every night during their stay at Edoras he left him, secure in the knowledge that the elf wouldn't wake for many hours. Next he moved to where he knew everyone had gathered: Théoden's war-room. And just as he had expected there they were, each situated in a chair with grave, concerned looks upon their faces.

"He's sleeping." He answered the silent question that was on the tip of everyone's tongue as he slumped into his own chair with a tired sigh. There was no doubt that the next couple of days would be much more hectic than he would have preferred.

"It's true then?" Théoden questioned, the wrinkles on his forehead more obvious as he furrowed his brows. "Young Harry has left us."

"He has." Gandalf confirmed.

"Why?" One of the hobbits, more precisely Pippin, asked.

"Because he is afraid."

"We all are, this war affects us all so that is no excuse." Théoden scornfully replied, rubbing the hilt of his sword in an agitated manner.

"He is not afraid in the same sense as we are, he is not even afraid of the same thing as we are. Harry is afraid of choosing." The wizard explained, pausing for a moment before continuing. "He will return to us, I am sure. Before two weeks has passed we will be reunited and all we can do until then is keep Legolas sane and move on with our plans. Harry will learn the error of his way soon enough."

* * *

Completely oblivious to these happenings, Harry sat before the fire he and Regulus had made, staring into it as if it was the most magnificent of all jewels. They had been riding for hours into the night and it was only at Regulus' insistence that they had stopped and set up a camp. They needed sleep the wizard had insisted. And yet after shifting and turning for two hours Harry still couldn't manage to sleep, always disturbed by some kind of noise. His companion was snoring deeply, their horse was resting too and so Harry found himself to be alone with his own mind—he was given time to think, or in other words, exactly what he had wanted.

His mistake was painfully obvious to him now. Leaving without even writing a note was one of the most idiotic things he had done since arriving in Middle Earth. Distractions were exactly what had driven him to leave and there was no doubt in his mind that his disappearance would distract the Fellowship, more specifically Legolas, more than was good. He had practically doomed them to the same fate that he had been so desperate to get away from. And yet he would not change his mind and return. It was done now, and perhaps it was not for the best, but it was done nonetheless. He could do nothing but follow through with it and face the consequences.

With that in mind he quietly began gathering his belongings, making sure to keep his steps quiet so as to not wake Regulus. He had decided. This last part of his journey in Middle-Earth would be done alone. It was time that he proved himself, both for his own benefit and for that of his friends. When finished with packing he seated himself, transfigured a rock into a piece of paper, a stick into a quill and some water into ink before he began writing his message. It took no longer than five minutes for him to be up on his feet again, moving to rouse the dark horse from its sleep.

And in a matter of minutes he had mounted the stallion, and was galloping away from his teacher.

"Foolish boy." The still figure of Regulus muttered as grey eyes opened, looking so awake that it seemed as if he had never been asleep in the first place. "Much too hasty."

Watching as his apprentice disappeared; Regulus sat up, supporting his upper body by placing his hands on the ground behind him. Harry had acted just as he had expected of him. Irrationally and according to the spur of the moment Harry had decided to leave him to travel on his own. A thoughtless mistake that he would no doubt live to regret when faced with the nervous wreck his mate undoubtedly had turned into. Still, his apprentice had acted just as he had wished for him to, and had done it so beautifully that it had barely required any action on his part.

Smiling Regulus drew out the dark lock of hair he had managed to snag from Harry without the young wizard noticing. Hopefully it would be enough to keep Legolas from succumbing completely to the madness that awaited any elf that lost their mate.

"Now then," He murmured to himself, dusting off himself as he stood in one graceful move. "It is time for me to get going, I suppose."

With only a single glance he extinguished the fire and erased any sign of them having ever been there. He picked up his blanket, folded it and put it away before giving their campsite one last glance, making sure that he hadn't forgotten anything. Once reassured of that he closed his eyes and disappeared with a pop. He had some fellow wizards to reassure, an elf to pull from the brink of madness and a whole mess to clean up after Harry's untimely disappearance.

The sight that greeted him when he appeared in Théoden's dwelling was just what he had been anticipating. They were planning. Everyone but Legolas, the very person Regulus was seeking.

"What is wrong with this picture, I wonder." He said out loud, drawing their attention from the map they were studying to himself.

"The lack of a certain young wizard." Radagast's displeased voice answered immediately, as if having anticipated Regulus' arrival just as the blue wizard had anticipated Harry's escape. "You let him leave? On his own? What were you thinking?"

"His scar was bleeding." Regulus stated, as if that would explain everything. And for some of those occupying the room, it did. There was no doubt in their mind what Regulus could have meant with that one sentence. Voldemort had somehow managed to contact Harry through their connection and in doing so had managed to rattle Harry enough for him to come undone.

"I should have known this would happen." Gandalf sighed, dragging a hand across his tired face. "How did he take it?"

"I would have thought that to be obvious," Radagast butted in, his voice wry with ill-timed humour, "considering the fact that he is no longer here with us."

"Radagast!" Regulus reprimanded, sending his friend a glare.

"No, I will not keep quiet on this. I told you this would happen Regulus, but did you listen? Of course you didn't, instead you helped him run away!" Brown eyes practically crackled with electricity as Radagast faced his friend. "I know how you enjoy your games and manipulations Regulus, but do you truly revel in them at such a level that you would risk your own apprentice's life?"

This time it was Gandalf's turn to reprimand the wizard for his words.

It would seem that Radagast had managed to hit a nerve, however, as Regulus had immediately changed colour—an unflattering red. The blue wizard's fingers twitched, as if the urge to reach for his wand was barely resisted. His face had gained a distasteful grimace, twisting his features in an unbecoming way. It was all a testimony to the truthfulness of the blond wizard's words. Had Harry been there to witness this reaction he would have realised that Regulus was, perhaps, not as good as he had believed him to be and that some of the Black family traits still lingered within him.

"It was necessary..." The dark haired man weakly tried to explain, "he could never have matured, never have done what is needed of him if the elf was around to influence him, Harry understands this."

"You have doomed him!" Radagast spat, feeling no compassion as Regulus winced, in his mind the blue wizard had brought this upon himself. "Did you not think that the elf could have been a good influence? He could have kept Harry from being affected by the darkness that surrounds him every second of every day."

"You said to me, as late as yesterday," he continued, not allowing his friend any room to retort, "that this was all Harry's choice, that what he decided to do had nothing to do with us. Or have you already forgotten? You, Regulus, are guilty of doing the exact thing you were so passionately accusing me of. Using Harry to relive your own life, oh how the mighty have fallen."

* * *

For three days he had been travelling and, rather unexpectedly, had wound up in a quite pleasant company. He had, after a rather gruesome ride which had left him sore in more than one place, reached Osgiliath and consequently become familiar with Faramir. The young man struck him as rather sensible and not nearly as arrogant and self-confident as his older brother had been. He had immediately taken a liking to him and though it had taken him some time to convince the man and his company of the truth in his word—that he was indeed an acquaintance of Gandalf—they had eventually taken a liking to him as well. He could easily admit that it had been the captain's information that had drawn Harry to him at the beginning, however. How could it not, when the man carried news of Frodo and Sam's health?

He had been uncertain as to how to react to the news. No good could come out of the fact that the two hobbits were now travelling with Gollum. He knew, from the account of Gandalf, how sly and manipulative the creature could be when on the hunt for the Ring. And he doubted that Frodo and Sam, with their rather naive minds, were capable of dealing with those manipulations. When he'd heard the news he'd had half a mind to storm off after them. Faramir had, on the other hand, managed to convince him of the futileness of that action. The chance of him actually finding two small hobbits in the wilderness of Middle-Earth was minimal. So he had decided to trust the two to make the right choices.

His stay with the Gondorians had lasted for two days when a particularly cold, misty night brought with it a very unwelcome change. He had been sitting by the fire, which had become a habit ever since he'd joined them, laughing and joking with the soldiers. They had all been completely unassuming, never thinking of the many dangers that could linger under the covers of the fog. So they had nearly been taken completely by surprise. And as horrible it was to think of, they owed their survival to the death of one of their own.

Harry had been in the middle of listening to Amandil, one of the men he had become the most familiar with, telling the tale of how he had struggled to gain the attention of his wife and the many trials he had had to go through with to gain her heart—some of them were especially amusing—when an armoured body had come tumbling down the stairs, an arrow protruding from his chest.

As soon as the body landed on the harsh stone floor they were up and running, stealthily gathering their weapons and moving to their appointed positions. His heart pumped faster and faster as Harry stood there, leaning against a wall, his wand held to his chest in a tight grip. The sound of oars quietly breaking the surface of water reached his ears as their attackers steadily approached. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. No matter how many times he had fought the hideous creatures he still couldn't squash the anxiousness that always seemed to well up inside of him whenever he was to step into battle.

A heavy hand, warm and calloused, suddenly dropped onto his shoulder, squeezing it in a reassuring manner. Slowly he angled his head so he would be able to see the one comforting him, smiling at Faramir when their eyes connected.

"Stay close to me," the man whispered. His eyes shone with a confidence that was more comforting to him than any speech designed to promote bravery ever could. It was a quiet encouragement that demanded nothing of him.

"Sure," He replied, nearly reaching up to grab a hold of the man's hand before, at the last minute, thinking better of it. Faramir might get the wrong impression.

Orcs suddenly stormed out between the many columns Faramir's men were hidden behind, their horrifying weapons raised high up in the air as their faces were twisted into gruesome grimaces. Just as abruptly as they had appeared Faramir jumped out from his hiding place. Urging his men to follow his example he immediately began hacking away at the enemy. With his sword in his left hand and his wand in his right Harry joined his companions, clashing swords with a particularly looking orc. Yellow eyes shone menacingly from a black skinned face. Sharp teeth, practically brown in colour, were bared in a snarl when the orc drew its sword back to deliver a harsh blow. Large, defined muscles flexed in his enemy's arm, making it clear exactly how much strength that was behind the swing.

With a quiet curse Harry ducked, bringing his sword up to parry the strike before flinging out a rather vicious cutting curse. Dark blood flew into the air, staining his face as his opponent fell to the ground with a pained squeal. He watched as the orc twitched for a few moments before falling still. The curse had been well aimed, cutting off the main artery in his opponent's right leg. And now a pool of dark, nearly black, blood slowly seeped out from the still body. Without further ado Harry moved on, thrusting his sword through the abdomen of an unsuspecting orc who had backed Amandil up into a corner. A loud screech rang through the air as the being pierced onto his sword frantically began swinging its own sword, a long thick one with a hooked end, around. Its reach was so great that Harry had to duck several times in order to avoid being hit. Grimacing he twisted and wrenched his weapon upwards, tearing through skin and muscle. All the while blood flowed forth, staining both his sword and his hands.

The whole battlefield was, as a battlefield usually was, in complete and total chaos. The orcs seemed to be never-ending. Whenever one was cut down two new ones were immediately there to replace their comrade, showing no compassion as they stepped over his body. Compassion, it seemed, was not a feeling that existed within them.

His breath came in pants as he cut down orc after orc, wincing each time they managed to get in a hit. Lights of different colours flew from his wand at a rapid pace; as soon as one had left the stick another one was right behind it. And although the orcs had discovered the deadliness of the lightshow and give him a wide berth they came up with other ways to attack him. Bows and arrows were taken out and soon the sky was filled with flying arrows. Had it not been for the fact that their aim was terrible Harry was sure he would have died the moment they had decided to gang up on him, shooting groups of arrows at the same time.

A sharp pain ran through his arm as an arrow suddenly got through his defence and lodged itself into his shoulder. With a most impressive growl Harry sheathed his sword, grabbed onto the arrow and ripped it out with a wince and a cry. Closing his eyes Harry reached deep into himself, ignoring the blood that soaked through his shirt, and eagerly latched onto the fire that Leroy and Latheron so readily offered him. Green eyes blazed with a new light when they opened again. White and black fire licked at his skin as flames surrounded him in a blazing inferno. It was different from before when he'd only had Leroy's fire to rely on. It was so much more intoxicating, so much more powerful. He felt as if he had been born anew.

Another batch of arrows flew towards him and he, with no hesitation whatsoever, immediately threw a large ball of fire at them, burning them into nothing but ash. A large grin spread across his face and he turned to face his opponents. The way they cautiously stepped back satisfied him, telling him that he was, indeed, as intimidating as he felt.

With a gracefulness not often seen in him, he danced about, shooting flames and grilling several orcs. His companions' courage rose as well when they saw the many orcs he disposed of. They began attacking the orcs with a renewed energy, moving at a faster pace. He had given his opponents too little credit though, as it didn't take very long for them to figure out that their shields could act as a rather efficient protection against his lethal flames. And soon enough the playfield was once again levelled.

The darkness didn't affect the battle as it usually would. There was no need for torches as Harry's fire seemed to light up the whole battlefield, making it possible for them to fight with the same precision as they would have in daylight. The scent of flesh burning contaminated the air, filling his nostrils and nearly threatening to choke him with its foulness. Bodies, both human and non-human, were on fire and the smoke that rose from them obscured the clear view he'd had of everything around him.

His ducking, his dodging and his strikes all relied upon his hearing, which wasn't saying much considering the fact that the air was filled with pained screams. Harry suspected that very much of his survival was due to pure luck. Someone up there had to be rather fond of him, he figured.

A whoosh of air escaped him suddenly as he was forcefully pushed to the ground, a heavy body, burning due to the flames covering him, kept him down. Victorious cackles could easily be distinguished from the other noises in the air, making it obvious that they had decided to sacrifice one of their own in order to take him down. Hoards of orcs surrounded him on all edges, closing in on him with malicious grins on their faces. Sharp spears were pointed straight at his body, mostly centred on his vulnerable belly.

Grunting he desperately pushed at the body, scrunching up his nose as the smell invaded his nostrils and ignoring the mocking laughter coming from the ones surrounding him. Black blood drained from the body, seeping through Harry's clothes and staining his skin. The skin stretched over the body's muscles slowly began peeling away, melting at the heat radiating off of Harry. And each time he tried to push it off him his hands came back with patches of skin stuck to them.

"Fuck," He hissed as one of the spears came too close for comfort. His green eyes darted back and forth in a skittish manner, searching for something to help himself with. And when he saw nothing he came to a rather horrifying realisation. There was no possible way for him to lift the heavy body off of him alone and escape was absolutely necessary as he did not wish to die just yet. He would have to burn away the carcass.

He grimaced before closing his eyes and breathed through his mouth. If he was to do this he would prefer not fainting from the hellish smell. Slowly he allowed his flames to grow warmer, sweat running down his face as it grew to such a degree that even _he_ was affected by it. He took deep steady breaths, not daring to open his eyes in fear of throwing up at the sight that would no doubt be greeting him. The sizzling noise of flesh bubbling floated into his ears, and he could practically feel the skin that had previously been firm running down in liquid rivers everywhere on his body. When this was done and over with, Harry decided, he would be burning his clothes.

As soon as the carcass had melted so Harry could push it away he was up and moving. He immediately began shooting flames all around him, unconsciously he slipped into parsletongue as he hissed and bared his teeth at the orcs that had forced him up into that hideous corner. Undoubtedly, he made quite the sight: drenched from top to toe in melted muscle and flesh.

The young wizard showed no hesitation as he, at once, engaged the orcs in battle. He continued fighting, occasionally helping a comrade in trouble, throughout the night. And it wasn't until the first signs of dawn appeared that something changed. He no longer fought with the same vigour, exhaustion slowed his limbs and his flames no longer burned with an unstoppable heat. In fact, they had grown so dull that he had been forced to once again draw his sword and fight the normal way. Harry was not designed for fighting all through the night without any sort of recuperation that was for sure.

A loud, inhuman screech resonated through the air just as Harry was about to deliver a fatal blow to his current opponent. Great shadows entered his vision and he spun around in order to take in the new threat. Blood immediately drained from his face, leaving him even paler than he already had been. A violent sense of foreboding welled up within him. He could have dealt with anything but this. His whole body trembled with fear as he stared straight at the unwelcome and exceedingly horrifying sight. Without doubt they were doomed.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm readily going to admit that this chapter took way too long to write, I have, as always, an excuse however! Something happened to my laptop and so it had to go in for reparations, I still haven't gotten it back and its nearly been two weeks now I think. The point is, however, that I hadn't expected for it to take so long and had decided to wait until I got it back before I continued to write on the chapter I had already begun on. When it became clear that I wouldn't be getting it back anytime soon I began writing an entirely new chapter on the laptop I'm currently using (my mother's xD). Hopefully the length of the chapter will make up for the long wait!

I'd love for some love a.k.a constructive criticism from you my darlings and so to any that has the time I'd really love to hear your opinion on this chapter!


	36. Whatever You Do, Don't Die

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning:** This whole chapter is practically a battle scene, as such there is bound to be blood and gore.

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

* * *

_"Humans have a knack for choosing precisly the things that are worst for them." _- Albus Dumbledore

* * *

**Chapter 36:**

**Whatever You Do, Don't Die  
**

Blood was rushing through his veins at such a fast pace that he was becoming dizzy. Several wounds littered his body. There was no doubt in his mind, as he watched soldiers and horses being thrown around like ragged dolls, that they needed to escape. Anyone could have seen that this was a lost battle. The outcome of it had been decided the moment the witch-king and his servants had arrived. And now they stood no chance.

"Get out of here!" He roared, green eyes glinting fiercely in the sunlight that had just begun shining upon his face. With blood splattered on his face, hair standing in every direction, torn clothes and with his sword deeply embedded in the chest of an orc he made a fierce sight. And there could be no doubt, when those eyes suddenly flashed an unearthly green, that this young man was a force to be reckoned with.

He could feel Leroy and Latheron roaring within the confines of his mind. Despite the amount of power the fight had already taken out of him it seemed that they were still eager to come out and play. Leroy, especially, was rather impatient in voicing his excitement. And a sudden idea that the dragon might have wanted a rematch from last time suddenly popped into his head. It was, after all, most likely as Leroy possessed a more than healthy amount of pride.

A hoarse scream tore through his throat as something suddenly began bubbling within him. A scorching heat radiated off of him in waves, warming the air to the point where it was nearly impossible to breathe. Hastily he took a couple of steps backwards, watching as the small tufts of grass peeking out from between the brick stone covering the ground lit on fire. Another scream, this one more of a whimper, escaped the confines of his mouth as yet another wave shot out of him. An inferno of flames burst out of his chest, wrapping itself around him. Latheron and Leroy were just under the surface, fighting together to gain control so as to escape and extract their revenge.

It was as if he was a cup filled to the brim with water. A single drop would be enough for the water to spill over. He could feel the flames building up to a degree where he could no longer hold back. An ear deafening boom resonated through the air as a blinding light flashed from him. A grimace twisted his face as Leroy and Latheron burst out of his chest in a show of flames and smoke.

The two dragons, their bodies intertwined, were a spectacular show with their contrasting colours. They released a unanimous roar that drowned out the terrified screams, produced by both the enemy and his allies, that had immediately been uttered upon their arrival. Two pair of eyes, one green and the other a threatening red, at once latched onto their target. Harry could practically feel their fury building, and he knew what would happen a second before it did.

They were unstoppable as they made their way through the air, avoiding every single one of the flying beasts in favour of approaching the one their hatred was centred on. Their leader. The witch-king. White teeth were bared in an angry snarl and Harry could not help but to be amazed by the way their every movement was synchronized. Like clockwork it was. Too much so.

Harry knew that despite appearances Leroy and Latheron were still not quite over their rivalry. Especially Latheron. The dark dragon had yet to forget the amount of hours Leroy had spent with Harry whereas Latheron had been in the dark by himself. And even though it seemed as if they had both put aside their differences in favour of hunting down this threat to their master, Harry could see that their ability to act as one was nowhere near as good as it should be. There was something lacking.

The sound of steel clashing against steel rang through the air. An unfitting grimace twisted Harry's features as his arm shook with the strain of countering a blow from such an awkward angle. Coming to the conclusion that defending himself in such a way would be rather hazardous to his health, he smoothly spun around. It was no surprise that his opponent was ugly as hell. His face looked as if it had been eaten up by maggots and those watery, yellow eyes had an unnerving shine to them that didn't sit quite right with him. All in all, the orc's appearance truly disgusted him and he would have liked nothing more than to cut right through it.

A perverse chuckle shook the orc's frame, his face twisting into a sneer while a dark tongue came out to wet a pair of chapped lips. With a fierce glare Harry put more strength behind his hold, pushing against the orc until he finally managed to dislodge himself from the impasse they had managed to get themselves into. He wasted no time in delivering his own attack towards his opponent. His sword glinted dangerously as it swung in a graceful arch down towards the orc's neck, it's purpose: beheading the sucker.

He vaguely registered the enraged roars released from both his dragons, as it was though, he no longer had any time to stand about and keep an eye on the two. They would have to take care of themselves while Harry worried about staying alive. Besides, they were the ones who had been so adamant of fighting the witch-king and as such they should be able to take responsibility for their actions.

A spray of blood hit him as the orc's head suddenly disconnected from its head, falling to the ground. Faramir, his complexion pale and his eyes shining with worry, stood behind the falling body, obviously the cause of the orc's death.

"Didn't I tell you to stay close?" He chastised, looking quite fierce with his sword in hand, dripping with blood.

"Sorry 'bout that, unfortunately there were some occurrences that made that impossible." Harry explained, a sheepish grin stretched across his face.

"Yes," Faramir murmured, "two dragons emerging from your chest would do that, I suppose."

Harry would have replied with another comment had it not been for the ray of fire that was suddenly headed their way. Abruptly, he jumped to the side, barely avoiding being singed by the deathly flame. Sweat trailed down his face, disappearing beneath his shirt as it made a path down his neck. Narrowed green eyes turned to watch the skies, spitting irritation at the realisation that it was his dragons that were shooting flames in all directions.

"Get your soldiers out of here, would you Faramir? I'll distract the ring-wraiths long enough for you to escape." There was not a single ounce of hesitation in his voice.

"What about you then? How are you going to escape them?" Disapproval was clear in the Gondorian's voice, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Oh I'll manage somehow. Just get them out of here as fast as you can." And with that he promptly turned around, raised two fingers up to his mouth and blew. A piercing whistle could easily be heard ringing through the air, drawing the attention of his loyal dragons. "Latheron!"

A mighty bellow instantly replied and the dragon easily dislodged himself from his fight in order to respond to Harry's calling. Steadily, with graceful movements, Latheron approached. Blood rushed faster and faster through him while adrenaline pumped through his veins readying him for the rush he was about to experience. In an almost feline-like move Harry crouched down, his muscles flexing as he prepared himself. A large grin split his face in two as he suddenly released all the pent up tension and flew into the air with a mighty jump. The whole manoeuvre was beautifully done, calculated down to every single detail and so Harry gracefully landed on Latheron's strong back.

"What are you waiting for Faramir? Get your arse in gear!" He shouted just as Latheron accelerated and took off into the sky.

His hair flew in all directions as the wind whipped about him. His clothes, already torn from his previous fights, ripped at the edges, the fabric unable to resist when the current of air grabbed a hold of hit. Harry easily kept up with his dragon's movements, having no problem even when Latheron took a particularly sharp turn. It was as if his feet were glued to the scales upon Latheron's back.

A high pitched screech reached his ears, indicating that the ring-wraiths had finally taken notice of him. Harry's features seemed to twist, becoming sharp, more like those of a feline. The anticipation was high in his body and he had to physically restrain himself from stepping forward and doing something foolish.

An abrupt rush of wind to his right alerted him of Leroy's presence. His entire being was drugged by the familiarity of his fire's power. Even though the two had exited his body he could still feel them inside of him, could feel their very essence running through his veins. And with the two gathered beside him like this, displaying themselves in all their glory, he couldn't keep his pride from swelling in elation. These two magnificent creatures were his.

He, accompanied by both Leroy and Latheron, released a war cry, his wand glowing with a luminescent light as the dragon he was riding on suddenly lunged forward. His stomach tingled as they dropped through the sky in a free fall for a moment before Latheron abruptly righted them. Shrieks answered their cries and just as sudden as Harry and his creatures had moved they flapped their wings and headed straight for the wizard and two dragons.

The rest of the world became a blur as he could only focus on the claws headed his way and the fire thrown by himself.

* * *

It was official. His mate, Harry James Potter, would never be allowed out of his sight again. After having put himself together from his breakdown he had come to the conclusion that he needed to teach his mate that disappearing without his permission was not allowed. He had allowed it before because he had believed it to be a phase, that Harry needed to rebel a little before he could settle down and fully accept his position. But no longer. Legolas would ensure that Harry understood that childish attempts at running away, no matter how unwittingly he was doing so, would not be tolerated any longer.

Had his mate been an elf he would not have been so lenient, yes for lenient was exactly what he had been during the last few months. Legolas had given Harry more freedom than any other elven mate would have been given. The most precious of things to an elf was his/her mate and as such they all used drastic means when it came to protecting them. So, due to that, it was understandable that most of the time said mate was not allowed to stray out of their sight. And, as he'd already stated, had Harry been an elf he would have known this and wouldn't have made the mistake of running away, with another man at that.

Gracefully, he moved through the halls of Meduseld, the strands of hair that Regulus had brought back to him hidden safely in the inner pocket of his shirt. It was reassuring to have his mate's scent with him, and even though Harry in person would have been much better Legolas would take what he could get. Until he managed to get to Harry, of course. And after having made sure his mate was unhurt and knew exactly where his place was—by Legolas' side, preferably in his arms—he would naturally take his time in reacquainting himself with Harry's lovely body. The mere notion of claiming Harry for himself sent shivers of anticipation through his frame.

For now, however, he would have to bide his time and convince his companions that it was time for them to start moving. Blue eyes narrowed in graveness, no matter how great the feeling of something being wrong with his mate was he would have to steel himself and endure it. Harry was, if nothing else, a stubborn creature and if he wanted to run off on his own he would have to learn for himself the consequences of doing so. Legolas could not always be there to rescue him and he was quite certain that nothing less than hands-on experience would teach Harry the foolishness of acting before thinking.

"Just as long as you do not die, my love." He whispered to himself and pushed the doors leading to the main hall open.

* * *

A surprised scream ripped through his throat as Harry abruptly dropped to his knees, barely avoiding the deathly claw meant for his shoulder. Latheron's scales glistened in the light of the sun, stained with a mixture of blood coming from both Harry, Latheron and the ring-wraiths' beasts. The wind was harsh against his skin—feeling like a thousand whips lashing out at him—as he clung onto his dragon with bare hands. It was a wonder he had yet to fall of Latheron's smooth back, what with the way the dragon was flinging himself left, right and even upside down. All in an attempt at sparing Harry from as much injury as possible.

Not that it did much. Whenever Latheron turned to shield Harry from one enemy another would pop out from nowhere, handing out the damage that originally had been intended by another. One would have thought that Leroy could have been of some help in that area, but the other dragon was far too busy fending for himself rather than his master and so Harry and Latheron was on their own.

"Get out of there, Harry!" He could hear Faramir's voice drifting to him on the wind, signalling to him that they had managed to get, if not to safety then at least half way there.

His attention securely captured by the Gondorian, Harry turned around to see for himself that they were, in fact, out of harm's way. Undoubtedly a moronic thing to do—as he was to see only seconds later—considering the situation he currently found himself to be in. An ear-piercing screech rumbled through his chest, up is throat and out his mouth into the air. The horribly familiar feel of having a claw latched onto his shoulder, piercing through the muscles and flesh there, ripped through him. Blood flooded down his arm in streams and Harry could feel wave after wave of agonizing pain radiate throughout him. Even the scar which had been left behind after the last time the witch-king's beast had grabbed a hold of him throbbed.

With a great wrench Harry was lifted off Latheron's back and into the air, the only thing keeping him from falling to his death was the deathly talon piercing his skin. His vision became more and more blurred with each drop of blood that leaked out of his body. And he had to fight the urge to fall into the reprieve of unconsciousness with all his might. Luckily, throughout the pain and the suddenness of it all he had managed to keep a hold of his wand. So with a swift movement he muttered a quiet curse, sending a bright red light shooting towards his captor.

A screech filled the air as a large gash appeared on the monster's hard skin, blood flowing out of the wound at a rapid pace. Harry repeated his actions. Another cry, this one more furious than hurt, sounded from the winged beast. In a punishing move it shook Harry, digging its claws further into his shoulder—a triumphant growl rumbling through its body at the pained whimper the action gained. Harry did not relent in his assaults, however, and continued until the beast, with an infuriated roar, released him.

The wind whipped about him as he fell, nearing the ground at a breakneck speed. A queasy feeling rushed through him as he realised that the possibility of him being reduced into nothing but a pile of goo was increasing with each inch he fell. It was anything but a nice notion. He could feel his wand warming and cooling in his grip, continuously changing in its anxiousness to help its master. Sparks of raw magic flew from the tip surrounding him in an array of colours. Tears obscured his sight, leaking from the corner of his eyes without his permission.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Harry cursed, waving his wand about in deliberate movements before pointing it at himself and shouting out. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

It was a rather desperate attempt on his side. Harry had no way of knowing whether or not the charm would work when directed at himself, but being the man of action and lover of life as he was he could not—he doubted anyone could really—with good conscience allow himself to fall to his death without even attempting to rescue himself. Harry was self-sacrificing, yes, suicidal?No. He had a healthy dose of self-preservation, thank you very much. There was a reason, after all, why the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him in Slytherin. And besides, he hadn't planned on dying just yet. He still had some unfinished business.

Tingles shot through his stomach as his descent gradually slowed. Dark hair, streaked with blood and sweat, gently flew about him, stroking his face in a fleeting caress. Green eyes flickered back and forth when the sounds of battle reached his ears. There, not too far from him were both Latheron and Leroy, circling him in a protective circle while at the same time protecting him from the ring-wraiths that were headed for him. A sudden, bright light cut through the air, momentarily blinding him.

Enraged cries, emitting from both the nazgûl and their mounts, rang in his ears, slamming harshly against his eardrums. The urge to reach up and cover his ears was strong—nearly too great to resist—but he knew that was he to do so it would end in him plummeting towards the solid earth once again. Grimacing, he endured the continuous shrieks as best as he could all the while taking in the distance between himself and the ground as well as keeping an eye out for his two fires. Despite the fact that the beasts they were fighting seemed to have been weakened when faced with Gandalf's light Harry could still see that Leroy and Latheron were struggling. The grace in which they had manoeuvred through the sky was no longer there, their movements were stiff and he could see that they were barely able to avoid the vicious swipes of claws sent their way. It was an unusual sight, Harry concluded, seeing the two dragons so weakened. And Harry found it hard not to call to them, cancel the charm, hop onto one of them and head on straight into battle with them.

He was only moments away from doings so when Gandalf's light once again passed by him. The nazgûl recoiled, as if burned. And he discovered that there was no longer any need for his concern when their enemy retreated, hissing angrily in Harry's direction.

Exhaustion took a hold of him and he barely managed to lower himself to the ground before darkness surrounded him on every edge.

* * *

**A/N: **So...yeah. Not sure of what I should comment on in this chapter. There's a lot of battle and I have to admit that it was rather difficult for me to finish this chapter. Christmas is coming soon and as such my hands are loaded with school work, I've got tests, exams, submissions and all that shit. Because of that it's been really difficult to find time for writing. And also, I'm currently writing on a christmas gift for a friend of mine, a HP/DM story, and so I find myself splitting up my time on all my stories, homework and my social life-which after some time gets pretty exhausting. By the way, I'll be posting said Christmas present some time between Christmas and New Year so for any of you that's interested go check it out ;)

It's a little bit early to say this yet but, Happy Christmas! :D


	37. I'll Bite If I Have To

**Title:** Fighting Another War

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **There's blood and fighting in this one, but since you've continued to read this story I'm sure you're able to read it without freaking out.**  
**

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

_

* * *

"It's only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth - and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up - that we will begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had." _- Elisabeth Kubler- Ross, 1926-2004_  
_

* * *

**Chapter 37:**

**I'll Bite If I Have To**

It was a rather peculiar and yet familiar sight that greeted him when he awoke. Gandalf, in all his white glory, accompanied by Pippin, who seemed quite small when compared to the wizard, sat by his bedside. A long-stemmed pipe—one Harry had often seen on their journey—rested in the old man's calloused hands, each time Gandalf inhaled embers glowed lightly from where they were situated in the pipe's chamber. Smoke filled the entire room with an odour that very much reminded him of the more calm evenings when the entire Fellowship had gathered around the camp fire, looking to each other for some company. A blissful time that he would have been more than happy to have returned to.

"They are curious creatures those two dragons of yours. Fiercely loyal and yet stubborn enough to disobey their master. I quite like them. They are just the sort of challenge that you need. Something to keep you on your toes, I would say, but even they cannot manage that for long." He inhaled and exhaled, watching with far away eyes as several rings of smoke flew through the room. "I must say that I am disappointed in you, Harry. I did not think you silly enough to fall victim to Regulus' manipulations, nor did I believe you to be so cruel as to leave your mate behind to fade away."

Green eyes shifted, staring up at the stone ceiling. "Is it not better to deal him the blow now rather than allow his hopes to rise even further and extend the torture? Our relationship was doomed from the beginning. I should never have allowed it to blossom to the extent that it did. It was my mistake and for that I apologize. I could have spared both myself and Legolas much unneeded pain."

A quiet gasp came from the hobbit in the room. "What are you saying?" Pippin's accent grew thicker in anger. "What happened to you? What turned you so bitter that you would say such things about the bond you share with Legolas? He has endured all your whims! Every time you drew back he fought for you! Every time you refused him he continued working for your attention, your affection; your love!"

"Pippin." Gandalf warned, putting a restraining hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"No! He needs to hear this! Harry needs to understand how selfish he really is. I have watched—we have all watched—as they struggled with each other, watched as Harry ran and Legolas pursued. Your relationship you say? Your _relationship_ has been nothing but a relentless hunt on Legolas' side and a cowardly flee on yours. You gave nothing while he gave it all." Pippin's entire frame trembled with rage, his eyes flashed with emotion and Harry was sure that it was only Gandalf's hand that kept the hobbit from jumping him. "I agree with Gandalf. I'm disappointed in you and I most certainly don't believe that you deserve any of what Legolas has given you."

"Peregrin Took! Step outside, I wish to speak with Harry alone." The glare on the wizard's face said it all, resistance would not be tolerated.

"Do not take his words to heart." Gandalf said once the door closed behind the hobbit. "Pippin is weary, frightened and does not know the weight of his words."

"He does." Harry parried, drawing his arms up and ignoring the pain that shot through them as they bent and came to rest under his head. "He's well aware of what he is saying, and he's right. Everything he said is true. And they are all reasons for me to cut my ties with Legolas and allow him to move on to someone else."

"Foolhardy that is what you are. Your skull is as thick as the walls surrounding us." The old man waved his pipe around in agitation. Bushy eyebrows drew together in a furrow, shadowing angry grey eyes.

"You shall speak with Legolas once his party arrives. You shall tell him of your worries, of what is holding you back and you will see that it does not matter to him so long as he gets to have you by his side. There is no other for him, Harry, as you well know." There was a sense of finality to his voice that made it perfectly clear that Harry had no choice in this matter, which, of course, did not sit well with the young man.

"No matter what you believe, no matter what you have been told in the past, you do not deserve to be alone in this world, my friend. Why do you keep pushing him away when it is so obvious that you want nothing but to throw yourself into his arms? Did you not enjoy our stay in Edoras? Did you not enjoy the connection you shared with Legolas then?" A wrinkled hand reached out to rest upon Harry's.

A frigid tension filled the room as Harry froze. He drew in a ragged breath, turning away from Gandalf and fastened his gaze onto the ceiling. Tired of keeping the truth hidden Harry took a deep breath and plunged. "I love Legolas. I love him. I love his possessiveness, I love his humour. I absolutely adore the way I can just sit in his embrace, take in his scent and feel as if nothing is wrong with the world. When this war is over I want nothing more than to complete our mating, begin a family and live happily ever after with him by my side. But I am realistic, Gandalf, I know that I won't live through this war and I don't want him to live through the pain of losing me."

Gently Harry sat up, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping slender arms around them. The soft sheets covering his body pooled around him, caressing his skin as it fell to rest on the bed's mattress. Almost like a child he curled in on himself. His voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm all too aware of the fact that elves fade away when they lose their loved ones. I think of it every time I see him. Each time I see someone I know die I am reminded of it."

He looked up, a glint of vulnerability shining in his eyes, the first he had shown in months. "I don't want to be the cause of Legolas' fading. I thought that maybe, if I distanced myself before things got really serious then he could still have some time to find someone else, someone to keep him from fading when I am gone. So long as he stays alive I don't mind him being with someone else."

"I think," Gandalf began, slouching a bit in his seat while lightly tapping a finger against his pipe. "that you should, for once in your life, choose to be selfish. And this time, when you put your mind to being honest with him and loving him, stick with it. Tell him your every thought, your every worry and everything will fall into place. You shall see."

And with that their conversation ended.

* * *

It was the calm before the storm. Harry could feel it. The ever looming presence of Sauron's approaching army weighed heavy in the air and it was becoming more and more obvious by every minute that passed that sometime before nightfall a battle would commence. His body was restless, unable to stay still, and had him pacing back and forth on the balcony joined with his room.

Two days had passed since the grave conversation he had shared with Gandalf and his mind was troubled. His injuries weren't healed—or at least not to the extent he would have hoped for. He could still feel a rather unwelcome twinge of pain whenever he moved his left shoulder in a certain way. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be able to fight—in fact he was determined to do so—but it was also quite clear to him that he would be suffering through it. With his beaten body he wouldn't be able to move as fluently as he usually did when on the battlefield, and that would cost him dearly. Nonetheless, he would join in the battle, take down as many of the enemy as he could and die just as he was meant to.

A pink appendage peeked out of his mouth for a split second, running across the seam of his lips and wetting them. Harry lifted an arm, allowing his fingers to caress the cool stone of the balcony's railing. Smoke was rising from the ruins of Osgiliath, the orcs growing more daring—acting as if they did not fear an attack from The White City. It vexed him that they had the audacity to mock them so openly, as if Harry and the others had been nothing more than a mere trifle. He sneered, his fingers coming to a stop on the edge of the railing, establishing a tight grip on it. The flesh covering his knuckles turning white as his hand trembled in ire.

It was unbearable, waiting for them to make the first move when he would have liked nothing more than to ride out and catch them off guard. Had it not been for his injuries he was certain that he would have done exactly that. Or at least, he would have; had he not realized that controlling these impulses worked greatly in his favour. After all, following them had only served to mess up an already messed up life even further. No, Harry had—after a lot of time spent pondering both his conversation with Gandalf and his relationship with Legolas—learned his lesson.

Hissing as a small amount of pain shot through him, he relinquished his hold on the railing. Standing up straight he winced, feeling the skin surrounding the wound on his shoulder stretching uncomfortably as he did so.

"You should be resting." A quiet voice came from the darkness of his room.

"I should." Harry agreed as a small figure stepped out from the shadows and into the soft light of the moon, joining the wizard on the balcony.

"Why aren't you?"

"Would it be silly of me to say it's because I'm bored?" He smiled down at Pippin.

"Yes it would." The hobbit bluntly stated, turning to stare at the rising smoke that Harry had previously been observing. "It's more likely that you're simply scared."

"Scared, huh?" Allowing a quiet sigh to pass his lips, he used the railing to support more of his weight. "I guess I am, in a way. Just as you are."

"I'm sorry for saying those things. I don't know why you did what you did and it was unfair of me to judge you before I knew all the facts." Pippin mumbled, eyes darting back and forth from Harry to the stone floor.

"Gandalf spoke to you, did he?" It had been almost impossible to not see that Pippin had meant every word he had said the night of their falling out. And he had known, the moment Gandalf had asked him to excuse the hobbit for his behaviour, that the old wizard would have a talk with Pippin and order him to apologize. Harry didn't mind, in fact he had expected it. Gandalf was nothing if not protective of those he loved and Harry was, it seemed, a part of that group. In a way it was flattering, even though it—in most instances—led to things he would've rather have lived without.

"Mhm." Pippin grinned up at him, his cheeks flushed with what seemed to be a mixture of embarrassment and happiness at things having returned to normal between the two of them.

"Here," the hobbit continued on, holding out a hand for Harry to hold. "Let me help you back to bed."

"I'm not crippled, you know." The young wizard muttered in annoyance; despite already having looped his arm around Pippins.

"You want to fight don't you?" A satisfied air surrounded Pippin when Harry nodded in the affirmative. "Then it doesn't matter if you want to be helped or not, you need to heal before you can do any sort of fighting."

"You're beginning to take after Gandalf, Pippin." Harry complained, groaning as they, in a joint effort, lowered him to the soft bed.

"Listen to yourself, you are groaning and moaning with each step you take and you think you'll be capable of fighting without some rest?" An admonishing glare accompanied these words; something he had never expected to see on Pippin's face. "In this condition it would take a miracle for you to even lift up your sword."

"Well," Harry jokingly began, smiling at the hobbit. "Miracles have been known for happening around me."

"Indeed, one would have thought you'd have run out of them by now." A cheery voice suddenly cut into their conversation, drawing their attention to the wizard leaning against the open door.

It was odd, Harry mused, being only three people when he had become so accustomed to being surrounded by the Fellowship. And while it was immensely comforting to have Gandalf and Pippin by his side there was no doubt that it would have been even more so if the others had been there as well. Hoping for things to be different was fruitless and Harry would be much better off if he focused on what was to come, preparing himself to accomplish his goals—or rather his one, ultimate goal.

"Don't worry about that," He smoothed out the wrinkles on his sheets, resting his hands in his lap when they were as crease less as they could get. "I imagine that I'll run out of them soon enough."

"Oh believe me," Gandalf retorted, "I am quite happy that miracles seems to prefer your presence. It is something I grow more and more grateful for with each day that passes."

"Can't say you haven't found use for them." Pippin cheerfully added his two cents, nodding in satisfaction at having properly tucked in the young wizard.

Harry agreed. "They did not go to waste, that's for sure."

"Now sleep, I shall tell you when it is time for you to come and fight." Gandalf placed his hand over Harry's eyes, shielding them from the rest of the world.

* * *

He had slept, for hours upon hours until the sun rose and set, until the orcs and goblins had gathered outside the city gates armed to their teeth and thirsting for blood. There was no doubt in his mind that Gandalf, the clever man, had laced his sleep with magic, forcing him to sleep longer and heavier than he normally would have done. And when he woke his injuries had, much to his amazement, healed to such an extent that he could move without causing too much discomfort.

In a flurry of movements he flung off his covers, rising from the bed fully dressed as his clothes had not been removed the night before. Determined green eyes scanned the whole room in search of his weapons. It did not take long for him to find them, and just as he was about to fasten his sword and its scabbard in his belt the door slammed open with a great bang.

"Get out of bed, Harry!" Pippin's out of breath voice echoed off the walls. "It's begun!"

"I'm aware." He dryly retorted, strapping his wand on the inside of his right arm with a simple flick of his wrist. Kneeling to the floor he picked up a stray knife, hiding it in a strap wrapped around his leg for easy access. Even a dimwit would have known that carrying as many weapons as possible was a wise idea when dealing with an entire army of orcs.

"You should head on up to the higher levels." Harry said while rising to his feet and sweeping off towards the door. "The battlefield isn't fitted for a hobbit such as you Pippin."

"Stay safe, will you Harry?" The hobbit hesitantly asked of him just before he headed out.

"I'll stay as safe as I can manage to keep myself." He answered, his right arm moving to rest on the hilt of his sword, fingers caressing the rough leather.

Without further ado he swept out of the room, running down to the lower levels in search of a certain wizard. It did not take him long. Only a few minutes could have passed by before he caught sight of the white clad man. In a most efficient and impressive manner Gandalf ran back and forth, shouting out orders and taking control over the city guards. He was, in fact, so efficient that by the time Harry had managed to make his way to stand by his side all the soldiers had lined up by the city walls. Some on top of it, some beneath.

"Use everything you've got, Harry." Gandalf muttered, glancing at the young man standing beside him. "Magic, sword and even your body. I do not want to see you dead at the end of this. Slightly injured I can handle, but forever lost to us? No."

"I know, I'll even bite if I have to." Harry joked, shifting from one foot to the other as he looked out at the sea of orcs, goblins and even trolls. They were a menacing looking bunch, dark skinned with yellow or even brown teeth. Snarls and sneers made their grotesque features even more so. What truly made them intimidating though, was the eyes glowing with maliciousness and those sharp, hooked weapons that seemed to glint each time light hit them.

"Don't worry though." He was quick to reassure when seeing the dark look appearing on Gandalf's worn face.

"I'm afraid I cannot help myself. Whenever you are concerned, my dear Harry, I will always worry." Thick, bushy eyebrows furrowed as troubled eyes turned to look at Harry. "Spare me the pain of seeing you die this day. Spare me the pain of delivering the news to your mate."

Harry swallowed continuously, unable to remove the hard lump that had formed in his throat. "You know I cannot do that, Gandalf. You know what I have to do."

"You do not _have _to do anything!" The wizard heatedly burst out in a rare moment of weakened restraint.

A small smile, meant to console and relieve Gandalf of his sorrow, appeared on Harry's face then. "I could not live with myself, knowing that I sacrificed my friends into the grasp of Death without fighting him for them. As you well know."

His demeanour changed, turning more neutral, more stony. "I will die, probably at the hands of one of the beasts standing down there, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do about it. Not even Legolas."

"Then, if you are determined to go through with it, I have only one advice to give you." Gandalf sighed, leaning more heavily on his staff. "When the time comes think things through properly and choose wisely. For your own, as well as our sake."

He could detect a small amount of displeasure—bordering anger—in the wizard's voice. Harry would not be swayed though, no matter how much Gandalf expressed his disapproval. And so without any further comment on the subject Harry drew out his wand, turned to face the massive sea of orcs and prepared himself for the battle that was about to occur.

His eyes sparkled with determination. "Let's kill some orcs, shall we?"

And just as he uttered those words the battle began in the form of decapitated heads showering down upon them. Distressed cries rang from the crowd as the guards ducked behind their shields, paling when they turned to see their fellow Gondorians' stone cold heads lying upon the ground. The twisted grimaces, the open mouths were all clear indicators that the men had died a painful excruciating death. Torture had, most likely, played some part in the picture.

"Archers at the ready!" Gandalf shouted with vigour. Seemingly not at all affected by the cruel trick played on them.

Simultaneously, the guards—those standing closest to the edge of the gate walls—notched their arrows, nearly shaking with the tension that sprung through both themselves and the bow. They waited, waited and waited for Gandalf's command. And finally it sounded, bringing with it a shower of lethal arrows. Like stones the orcs fell to the ground, twitching before falling still. Outraged roars followed their descent, though Harry suspected it to be more an indignation of the fact that they had actually dared to fire at them rather than the fact that some of their comrades had been killed. Heartless creatures they were.

Once again Gandalf issued a command and the city guards notched their arrows for another shot. Harry watched as they sailed through the air, the dull coloured feathers at the end fluttering in the wind until the arrow gracefully arched down towards the ground and buried itself into its victim's chest. With a keening wail the goblin fell.

The battle commenced.

Hours flew by, blood was shed and the sun was chased away by darkness. The enemy managed to penetrate the city gates, slowly conquering the city, level by level. Both his sword and his flesh was stained black and red, a disgusting mixture of both orc and human blood. The spray from a decapitated body could reach far, he had experienced when one of the city guards had lost their head to the sharp edge of a sword. His own sword sang through the air, the blade a glowing read due to the heat that had begun to spread through Harry's entire body. Even the air surrounding him was beginning to heat up due to the fiery blade.

His breath came in gasps as he ducked, dodged and attacked. Driving his sword straight into the chest of his current opponent, grimacing at the squeal that pierced his ears. It was a wonder, he mused, that he had yet to lose his hearing. With a quiet grunt he ripped his sword out of the orc, wrinkling his nose at the smell of burnt flesh. A dull thud sounded as the cold body slumped to the ground, not deigned important enough to receive a second glance from the young wizard.

A shift in the air alerted him of the attack mere seconds before it occurred. His breath hitched as he dropped to the ground, feeling a deathly, sharp edged axe cut through the air just above his head. Some short strands of dark hair drifted down to the earth right before his eyes. He had barely manage to avoid having his head split in two. Swiftly he stretched out his foot and spun around, resting his hands on the ground to keep balance before throwing his body into the air, his feet spinning around like a deathly weapon—it was very much like a move he had seen a street-dancer use once. An immense feeling of satisfaction rushed through him at the tell tale sound of a breaking nose.

Still on the ground he rolled to the right as the injured goblin shrieked with rage and swung its axe at him. The sharp edged weapon cut into the ground, mere inches from Harry's head. Green eyes widened, swivelling around to take in his attacker looming above him. It was not a pretty sight. Dark blood ran down the goblin's mouth and chin in a river from its broken nose. Yellow eyes were narrowed, a manic glint shining in them promising both pain and death. Once again the axe descended.

The clang of steel meeting steel resonated through the air. Harry gritted his teeth, his muscles trembling as he parried the blow. He was at a disadvantage, blocking an axe descending from above was not the easiest thing to do, or rather it wasn't something he was used to do and as such the muscles needed to do it were too weak to keep it up for long. A wince flashed across his face when he felt his arms giving in, the axe coming dangerously close as a result.

"Harry!" Gandalf's voice suddenly reach his ears. "Keep an eye on things here would you?"

"Keep an eye on things? I'm a little bit busy here, if you didn't notice!" His voice was hoarse and he found it more and more difficult to keep a pitiful whimper from escaping his throat.

"Oh pish posh!" It was a wonder that the wizard could sound so unconcerned when he had acted so worried at the beginning of the battle. "You can easily take him down! Now stop playing, take him down and keep an eye on things."

"Charming, isn't he?" Harry questioned his opponent with an annoyed sneer before retracting his free hand and boxing the goblin straight in the mouth. A grimace flitted across his face as he shook his hand, casually kicking the wailing creature off of him in the process. His knuckles were blackened with his opponent's blood as well as slightly sore from the punch. It had been too long since he had engaged in a fist fight rather than one with his wand or a sword, Harry mused, he was beginning to get out of shape.

"Draw back to the higher levels!" Harry roared, delivering one final kick to the goblin's head, successfully rendering him unconscious and lying on the ground to be trampled on.

The battle continued on, robbing more lives and injuring more men. Harry's movements were, even after the many hours of fighting and little to no rest, fluent. His kills were swift and instant, leaving no room for his victims to suffer. And unlike the battle at Osgiliath he did not seem to tire so easily. His magic induced sleep had done him some good then. Apart from that, however, the battle was very much like it had been at Osgiliath. They were grossly outnumbered which, as it ought to do, affected the fight to a great degree. Still, every single man within the city fought courageously and Harry was bloody proud of them. Their relentlessness, the never ending fighting spirit within them; it was inspiring to observe.

Gandalf had, long since, returned from whatever business it was that had demanded his immediate attention. Harry had no knowledge of what said business had been, nor did he know how it had played out. And to be honest he didn't have the time for it. Who would when in the middle of a life threatening ordeal? His lips curled upwards, revealing his teeth in a most feral growl and narrowed his eyes as a dreadfully familiar high-pitched shriek echoed through the air. Yet it would seem that his old enemy was not there for _him_ this time, as strongly suggested when the witch-king completely ignored him, even flying right above his head, and headed straight for Gandalf.

Thoughts of aiding Gandalf was, despite how much he clung to them, pushed away in favour of more immediate and life threatening matters. More than one orc was on Harry's heels, thirsting for his blood and occasionally swinging their weapons at him. They missed more than they ought to have—considering their advantage in numbers—and Harry allowed himself the satisfaction of thinking it to be his superior dodging skills at play. This small pleasure was, however, put to the test when Harry—blinded by the rising sun—tripped.

It was a simple mistake. A dead body—whether it was an orc or a man he did not know—had been in his way. His feet, finally feeling some of the fatigue that should have come along at a much earlier stage, were not steady. But ultimately it had been the lack of sight that had been his doom.

His fall had knocked the breath out of him, leaving him winded and heaving for air. Several replications—of various colour—in the sun's form, tainted his vision. His back was aching and the fall left him so surprised and out of it that he had no possibility of escaping what was to come.

A blinding pain suddenly originated from his chest and belly. Wide green eyes flashed open, brimming with tears as a hoarse scream tore out of his throat with a tremendous force. His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into the flesh of his palms, drawing forth blood. He coughed, reaching up to grasp his throat as he desperately tried to clear the crimson coloured liquid from his airways. The blood trailed from the corners of his mouth, running a river down his chin. Astonishment welled up inside of him when he suddenly became aware of the bringer of this unimaginable pain. Three swords, each one gleaming proudly in the light of day, tainted by old blood stood straight up in the air. Kept so by the flesh of Harry's own body.

Spasms shook his body. Panic and fear settled in as his vision turned dark.

Death, it seemed, had been determined to claim him.

* * *

**A/N: **Don't kill me! We've all known that this was going to happen for a while now and now it finally has. Oh happy day. But seriously, I'm quite happy-yet at the same time sad-that we've finally come to this stage in the story. It won't be many chapters left now until we've reached the end.

Anyway, I'd like to propose a guessing game! Yay! I would like all of you to leave a review where you guess what will happen to Harry now that he's been killed. I'm very curious to hear what you think will happen. And who knows, maybe the first one to get it right will get a small prize... But that won't be revealed until I've posted the next chapter.

I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter, I made it especially long for you!


	38. Kings Cross

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**Rating: **M

**Result of last chapter's contest: **Congratulations to Aimi-chan! You are the lucky winner of a oneshot of your own choice. The only demand I have is that Harry has to be the main character, the rest of it is up to you! :D

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_"I still find a day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see." _John Burroughs, 1837 - 1921

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**Chapter 38:**

**Kings Cross  
**

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

He woke to silence. The sound of his own heartbeat was the only thing he could hear through the oppressing quiet. His flesh was untainted by the spilling of his own blood and his entire being completely devoid of any of the pain that being stabbed usually brought with it. A strange sort of tranquillity had settled within him, rendering him unable to think and only capable of feeling. And feel he did. Each and every one of his senses seemed to be heightened to a great degree. The cold surface he was lying on stung harshly against his bare skin, a stark contrast to the warm air brushing against him from above. Harry could feel his own pulse, his sensitivity so much enhanced that he could even feel his own blood rushing through his veins.

Stiff as a board Harry sat up, flexing his muscles, clenching and unclenching his hands. He was alive. Against all odds he was still breathing, still feeling, still living. Disbelieving green eyes scanned his surroundings. He was in a hall even bigger than the Great Hall, white tiled floor stretched out in the open space, impeccably clean. What stood out the most, however, was not the size of it, nor was it the cleanliness and not even the fact that it was entirely empty. No, what really drew Harry's attention was the great, domed glass ceiling glittering in sunlight. It was so familiar and distinguished that Harry immediately recognized where he was. Kings Cross.

Yet this discovery was hastily pushed to the back of his mind as whimpers and cries drew his immediate attention. With quiet and careful steps Harry made his way in the general direction which the sounds came from until he came across a small, naked child stuffed away under a seat as if unwanted. It was a hideous looking toddler with rough and raw skin, looking almost flayed. He took a step back, torn between comforting the distressed being and listening to the part in him that screamed at him to stay away.

"A shocking sight, is it not?" A familiar voice came from behind.

"Is this..." Harry trailed off, so transfixed with the sight before him that he was frozen, unable to turn around and take in his former headmaster.

"Yes, it is."

Harry drew in a sharp breath and defied his instincts, taking a couple of steps forward until he was crouching by the infant. Trembling fingers reached out, caressing the baby with light strokes. The skin felt just as rough as it looked to be, almost like leather. With a swift movement Harry flipped the blanket covering the child's head, revealing a wrinkly, grimacing face. A resonating shriek came from the baby, prompting Harry to move. Gently, he scooped the infant into his arms, shushing and lulling it into silence.

"There is nothing you can do for the child, my boy. It is beyond our reach and has been so for many years now."

"So you want me to just leave him here?"

Sad blue eyes turned to gaze at him. "You have to. This is simply the manifestation of the horcrux Tom unwittingly planted within you—the horcrux which is now dead. Leave it."

"I need to—" He cut himself off, viciously chewing on his lower lip while looking around, searching for something. Harry rubbed at the fabric of his cloak, considering it before unclasping it and—careful not to jostle the child too much—removed it from his shoulders. It was rather ironic how gentle he was when wrapping the cloak around the infant, considering what it was and who it originated from. But Harry couldn't find it in himself to treat the child the way most people would've thought it deserved. Harry had, himself, experienced the cruelness of neglect and hatred at an early age and so due to that he treated the baby with utmost care.

"If I have to leave him," He gently laid it down on the seat it had previously been stowed under. "I can at least provide him with some warmth."

"Kindness can go a long way, my boy, but I am afraid that in this case it is a lost cause." Said Dumbledore as he steered Harry away from the infant. "Now, let us get on with what we are both here for, your choice."

"My choice should be obvious, shouldn't it?" A wry smile spread across his face. "I should be jumping up and down in joy, ready to head back to the wizarding world, shouldn't I?"

"Should you?" Dumbledore questioned as he took a seat on the green bench behind them. "There are no expectations here Harry, only your own."

"No expectations? Of course there are expectations. Everyone in the wizarding world expects me to return to them, and everyone I've gotten to know in this new world expects me to come back to them." He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, white teeth latching onto his lower lip in an agitated manner.

A quiet sigh escaped the old man as he thoughtfully ran a wrinkled hand through his long, white beard. Blue eyes shone with emotion as Dumbledore turned to look at Harry. "I have lived a long life, Harry, a long life filled with both regrets and happiness. Many mistakes have I made, most of them, I'm afraid, concerning you. This time I will make sure I do not make one of those mistakes and that you make a choice you can live with."

He waited for a moment, as if catching his breath. "It is time, my boy, that you follow your heart and think of your own well-being, rather than that of others. Be selfish."

* * *

It was bound to have happened, really. From the moment he met Harry he had known that something like this would occur. He hadn't known how, nor when, but he had known it would. Perhaps, considering this, it had been foolish of him to encourage the relationship between Harry and Legolas. Perhaps they would have been better off on their own. Many what ifs ran through his mind as he observed his surroundings. Gandalf had seen it the instant Legolas had laid eyes on his lovely counterpart. There was something in the air that surrounded them that practically screamed that they were destined for each other. Maybe that had been the deciding factor as to why he chose to support their union. Who knew? What did it matter? All that mattered was the fact that Harry was dead and Gandalf dreaded the moment when Legolas would discover it.

Only once before had Gandalf witnessed an elf losing his—or her for that matter—mate. It was a dreadful sight, one he was not looking forward to seeing again. The last time—despite the 400 years that had passed—was still fresh in his memory, a dark and gloomy thought which had never quite been wiped out. He could still remember the feeling of utter hopelessness, as if all light had been sucked out of the world right along with the elf's mate. There was no doubt in his mind that Legolas' reaction would be despairing, and he was absolutely certain it would affect those around him. As if Harry's death wasn't heartbreaking enough.

There was much to hate about an elf in mourning, Gandalf mused to himself. The complete lack of consideration for others, the despair of seeing such a beautiful creature turn so unsightly, but most of all the fact that all those around the elf would feel the same sorrow and loneliness on top of their own feelings, heightening their mourning. So, considering these facts Gandalf could honestly say that he did not look forward to meeting Legolas.

Leaning heavily on his staff Gandalf moved down into a crouch, grey eyes taking in the sad sight Harry's body was in death. "Oh dear..."

It was quite obvious that Harry had been met with no mercy from his murderer. Three gruesome looking swords were firmly implanted in his belly, sticking out in different angles. Various cuts and bruises littered his young friend's body, a record of how Harry had faired during the battle. What really got to him, however, were those green eyes—usually vibrant with life—glazed over and unnaturally dull.

"Gandalf!" Pippin came shouting, a joyous smile splitting his face in two. "We won! We actually won! We should get Harry and—"

"I am afraid that it is too late for that, Pippin." Gandalf gestured to the corpse before him.

"That's not possible..." The hobbit's flushed cheeks were immediately drained of all colour, turning a sickly white as Pippin came to a staggering halt before Harry's body. "I mean, he's Harry, he's not supposed to die."

"Harry's not supposed to die, Gandalf!" Pippin sunk to his knees his trembling hands reaching out to clasp onto the fabric of Harry's tattered shirt and turned large eyes, brimming with tears, to stare accusingly at the old wizard—as if Harry's death was somehow his fault. "Everyone were supposed to come out of this war unscathed, and Harry...he...Gandalf, he promised! He promised me he would stay safe."

"Everyone is supposed to die, Peregrin Took." Gandalf sadly replied. "It is a natural way in life, neither you, Harry nor I can control it."

A wrinkled hand moved to caress Harry's pale face. With a gentleness that clearly portrayed Gandalf's affection, he brushed away a couple strands of hair that had obscured the view of their friend's features. Calloused fingers softly caressed the pallid skin, almost as if imprinting the feel of Harry's flesh into his own.

"One way or another we are all meant to leave this world," The wizard continued, a far away look in his eyes. And, moving to face away from his young friend, whispered to himself. "We shall see if this truly is Harry's time."

"And Legolas? What of Legolas?" Pippin persisted. "How will he cope?"

A displeased glint entered the old wizard's grey eyes as he looked upon the weapons which had robbed Harry of his life. Without hesitation he gently extracted the swords, making sure not to rip any skin. Disgusted he hurled the swords away from him, throwing them as far as he could. He wanted them nowhere near Harry. And, with a strength that belied his age, Gandalf grabbed a hold of the younger wizard, rising to his feet while cradling Harry to his chest. Gazing down at a concerned looking hobbit he allowed a small reassuring smile graze his face and gestured for Pippin to walk with him.

"Let us find some place else for Harry to properly rest."

Pippin's question remained unanswered.

* * *

"If you had gotten another chance at life," green eyes regarded the now darkened ceiling, the sun no longer shining upon the glass dome, "would you have done anything different?"

"Death is a life changing experience, is it not?" Dumbledore mused, a small smile decorating his face as his blue eyes twinkled like never before. "It makes us realize things we never would have thought of in life."

A silent sigh escaped the confines of Harry's mouth as he rolled onto his stomach, gazing up at his old headmaster under a curtain of dark lashes. Wryly he smiled. "That doesn't really answer my question, you know."

"Yes, I would have done many things differently." It was easily admitted.

"Me too." Harry agreed, momentarily closing his eyes. There was something so peaceful and calm about his surroundings that made it incredibly easy to open up, to admit things he would usually keep to himself.

"It is good then," Dumbledore spoke, "that you have the option to go back and do just that."

Harry hummed, his teeth latching onto his lower lip, abusing it for a few seconds before releasing it again. "It is...so long as I manage to decide where to go. And who knows, maybe the choice I make will be the wrong one."

"If you let your heart do the thinking," Dumbledore moved into a crouch, kneeling before his student in order to poke at Harry's chest, "and keep your brain out of the equation," he lightly patted the young wizard's temple with his index finger, "everything will turn out as they should."

"You know, I've missed you. All of you, even your quirky sides." Harry quietly confessed.

"Well, if I may say so myself, I do know how to leave a lasting impression." The wizard chuckled, stroking his beard. "Though I am delighted to say that I may have rubbed off on you in that department. You've left quite the impression on me as well. I've missed you too, Harry."

Indescribable warmth flooded him at the realisation that Dumbledore thought just as warmly of their relationship as Harry did. He had always known that his old headmaster favoured him more than some of the other students—it had been difficult to miss really—but to what extent he had never been aware. Until now that is.

With a small grin playing at his lips, Harry pushed himself up to his knees, leaning back to rest on his heels. Green eyes darted back and forth, taking in every detail upon Dumbledore's face as Harry cocked his head to the right. Dark hair shifted along with his movements, revealing the jagged scar he was oh-so famous for. Silence stretched on between them as Harry continued to stare at his older companion, observing every little detail while seeming to ponder over something.

"Do you think they will forget me?" It came out of nowhere. A fleeting thought absently aired.

"You'll be remembered. They will move on and eventually you will be nothing but a far away memory. But you'll always be remembered: Cherished."

"You're certain they will move on? _All of them_?" A dark eyebrow rose, enhancing the inquiring look covering his face.

"Good." Harry stated when seeing the old man's confirming nod. "Then I can leave with a clear conscience."

"You have come to a decision." It was said more as a statement than a question. Rising to his full height, Dumbledore gestured for Harry to follow him—everything was performed in fluid motions, powerful and graceful. Just like the man himself.

"I have." Slender fingers moved up to rub at his neck while Harry gently rolled his head from side to side, wincing each time his fingers came across a rather painful knot of muscles. He followed the older wizard at a more sedate pace, taking this last opportunity to memorize everything around him. Even going so far as allowing his hands to skim the surface of the walls, imprinting the feel of the tiles into his memory.

"How will this work then? Me returning I mean." He absently inquired, not looking at Dumbledore, but rather continued observing everything around him.

"Oh it is all quite simple." The wizard cheerfully began, reaching into his pocket and retracting a Lemon drop before popping the candy into his mouth. With a pleased hum Dumbledore sucked away at the candy, showing no signs of being phased by the sour taste that was no doubt spreading across his taste buds. The sweet had successfully distracted the man.

And as if a light bulb had suddenly lit up in his mind Harry saw exactly how much of an oddball the old man really was. He'd never really thought about it before, but Dumbledore was delightfully original. The brightly coloured robes, the pointy hat with matching colours, the long, white beard that went all the way down to Dumbledore's stomach and finally the half moon glasses that was firmly perched on the bridge of that slightly crooked nose. He must have broken it sometime in his past, Harry mused.

"Well?" A small smile shaped his lips when he saw the surprised, almost astonished look crossing Dumbledore's face when Harry aired his question. "How is it simple?"

"Pardon?"

"You were just about to tell me how I'm supposed to get back." Harry explained.

"Oh! Yes, yes. As I said, it is all quite simple. All you have to do is sleep." A light chuckle slipped past thin lips. "Delightful isn't it that something so plain and basic can solve something so complex."

"Sleep huh?" White teeth flashed as a crooked smile lit up Harry's features. "I can manage that."

"Otherwise I would've been concerned." Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, you just lay down here and allow the Sandman, as the muggles say, work his magic."

A single, fluffy pillow appeared out of thin air to settle in the old wizard's lap. With a mere shrug of his shoulders, Harry carefully lowered himself to the ground. The hard floor was a sharp contrast to the soft pillow cradling his head, but somehow Harry couldn't find it in himself to mind. He was going home. Nothing, especially not something so fickle as having to sleep on a cold, hard floor, could dampen his spirits now.

"Watch over them for me, will you?" Harry whispered, already feeling his eyelids growing heavier.

"Of course."

And as if a switch had been flipped off, Harry's breathing evened out and his consciousness left Kings Cross train station.

* * *

It felt as if he was swimming through murky water. Everything around him was dark and continuous waves of..._something_ kept trying to push him back. He could hear voices all around him, however muted they were. Familiar voices at that. A sharp light appeared before him, cutting straight through the darkness and filling him with renewed energy. With a sharp gasp Harry opened his eyes.

His entire world was flooded in white before all he could see was blue. A lovely, stormy blue that he wanted nothing more than to drown in. A gorgeous hue of blue that made everything in the world seem right again.

"I love you."

* * *

**A/N: **Wow...just wow. I have no idea whether I want cry in sorrow or laugh out of joy right now. We've finally reached the end my loves. Harry has fulfilled his destiny, the horcrux is gone and this story and it's plot has finally been completed. All that is left now is the epilogue.

I'm going to take the opportunity now, instead of waiting until the real end, to thank each and everyone of you darlings who have stuck with me till the end. I mean, this has been my first story(my baby!) ever and what a journey it has been. Writer's blocks have been hurled at me more times than I would've liked. I had to change beta at least two times. And even through all of this and the three years it took me to finish you have all stood by me and encouraged me. I can honestly say that I love you guys!

And then, of course, we have my lovely beta, KapaTea, who, no matter how many times I sent an e-mail begging desperately for help, always managed to calm me down and help me get back on track. It is, just as you said, exciting to be so near the end and to mark this huge event I would like to dedicate this chapter to you! :D

Hugs & kisses from a rather emotional author,

CrimsonSnowflake.


	39. The End Of A Journey

**Title: **Fighting Another War**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings belong to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: Please read! **

Wow, this is the end you guys, the very last chapter of Fighting Another War. I began the journey of writing this story when I, after having grown tired with just the regular Harry Potter genre, made my way into the world of crossovers. Consequently, I ended up looking at the HP/Lotr section and found myself to be horribly disappointed. While there were some good stories, most of them were too short for my liking and I decided that if you wanted something done, then you'd have to do it yourself. Thus an author was born inside me. And now, after three years, a round of re-writing and many times of frustration I can finally say that am done.

Also I know that I promised that there would be Mpreg, but I found that it wouldn't really fit in with the rest of the story and so I'm sorry to say that for the good of the story I broke my promise and decided to cut out the Mpreg part. Hopefully you won't be too disappointed.

If any of you have any questions I'd love to answer them, leave a review or send me a PM.

I'd also like to thank my beta. I love you Kapa, really I do, if it hadn't been for your help and the way you guided me through every single problem I encountered I'm afraid to say that I probably wouldn't have been able to stick with this and see it through to the end. So really thank you so much for that!

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**Chapter 39 :**

**The End Of A Journey**

The ground was painted red, overflowing with blood and mangled bodies that kept piling up. The sky was a foreboding grey as the clouds grew darker and darker, threatening to let loose an onslaught of both rain and thunder. Screams echoed in the air, shattering the idyllic silence that usually reined the grounds of Hogwarts. Students, who usually were absorbed in studying, playing pranks and discussing their love lives, were now locked in a fierce and merciless battle of life and death. It was unfair, brutish and plain torture. It was hell.

Fierce brown eyes were narrowed in rage, full lips pulled back in an almost feral snarl and petit hands were tightly clutched around the solid wood of a wand. Her breath was coming in quick gasps, barely having the time to exhale what with all the ducking, jumping, spinning and sidestepping she had to perform. Not to mention all the retaliation. She had lost count of how many lives she had taken, how many death eaters she had severely injured and left to die. It truly was an ugly battle. Everything was allowed. No one cared what was done, so long as your attack did not hit your allies. The lone eyeball lying on the ground before her was sole evidence of this.

With graceful movements she moved on, sparing the eye one final glance as she passed it. It was only her newfound experience with such things that kept the bile from rising in her throat. The last year had been nothing but a blur of battles, missing Harry, hunting for and destroying horcruxes. It had all come to this, the last stand, the final battle which outcome would decide the fate of millions of people, both magical and muggle.

With a hissing breath she dropped to the muddied ground—barely avoiding a bright green spell sent her way—rolling a few times before just as easily pushing herself onto her feet. A menacing glare covered her face as she turned to face her attacker, and without further ado she immediately began fighting back. With practiced movements she waved her wand back and forth in various patterns, sending off spell after spell in a furious manner. She barely stopped to see if they hit their target, as to do so would most probably come at a high price: her life.

Brown eyes scanned her surroundings, landing on a long stick lying abandoned in the chaos of the fight. A quick flick of her wrist was all it took and all of a sudden Hermione was diving to get a hold of the now deadly sword. Confidently her fingers closed around the rough leather handle and immediately began swinging the lethal weapon in the air. The sharp clang of metal grinding against metal, and the strong vibrations that shook her arm alerted her of the large axe that she had barely kept from splitting her skull.

Her muscles screamed for reprieve as they stayed in their deadlock, pushing against each other, sizing each other up, deciding who was the strongest. Her gaze flickered from the point where their weapons were grinding against each other in order to get a proper look at exactly who it was that she was fighting. And so she found herself to be looking straight into the impossibly dark eyes of one Rabastan Lestrange.

"Such a joy it is, to see you here, Rabastan." She'd had several encounters with this man, always fighting him in some way, both physically and mentally. During the many fights that had taken place since Harry's disappearance they always seemed to find each other, seeking the other out. It had become a sort of game, always injuring each other, always playing a game of wits, but never robbing the other's life. No, whenever it came to that point they would always draw back, waiting in anticipation for their next battle, longing to see what new surprises the other would have in store.

Rabastan Lestrange had corrupted her. Waking emotions in her that she had never known herself to be capable of: hatred, bitterness, cruelty and worst of all _lust_. Forgotten was the innocent love she had once held for Ron, replaced by the horrible fascination she held for the man in front of her.

"Hermione," He grunted, dark eyes taking in her figure. "Lovely as ever I see."

"Of course, only the best is good enough for you, after all." She drawled, making sure to put even more force behind her sword.

A deep, wicked laughter suddenly reached their ears, and a rather familiar figure entered their line of vision. "Quit playing with your little pet, dear brother, and get on with business!"

A sneer transformed Hermione's face and she gave one final push against Rabastan before suddenly leaping back and sending a vicious cutting curse his way. It had always bothered her how the few Death Eaters who knew of their association considered her more of a pet than a worthy opponent, thinking her to be less than she truly was.

She hated being thought of as weak.

"Serious today, are we?" The man questioned, deflecting the curse with an effective shielding charm.

"Did you expect anything less?" Hermione questioned, tightening the grip she had on her sword before shifting into a crouch, muscles tense and ready to spring into action.

With the grace of an experienced dueller, Rabastan copied her movements, widening his stance and watching her every move with sharp eyes. The playfulness which they had previously behaved with seemed long gone now; the severity of the situation finally having become clear to them. Their game was over. There was no more flirting, no more chasing, no more sparing of lives. This was it. One of them would have to die, or at least beaten to the point where they could no longer fight. It was the final battle, after all. Everything would end and begin with it.

And Hermione was utterly terrified of what the outcome would be.

A high pitched screech wrenched the air apart, slamming so harshly into her ear drums that she cringed in pain. Her bloodied chest covered in scratches and mud, frantically rose and fell in time with her panting breaths. She was trembling, her body pushed to the limit, on the brink of exhaustion. They had been fighting for hours, pushing and pulling, dodging and attacking; locked in an everlasting battle between equals. Their many encounters had served to level the playfield. They had gotten used to each other, used to the other's method of fighting, enabling them to read each other. After the first hour it had become clear that they were at a deadlock.

Almost like a predator she moved into a squat, pointing her sword straight at her opponent, ready to take on any attack Rabastan might deliver. It seemed, however, that her opponent was occupied with something else, for instead of keeping his gaze on her—as it should be—he was looking at something to the side. Shock, disbelief covered his face. And, was that a hint of despair? Yes...yes it was.

Making sure to keep both her sword and wand levelled at her opponent, she turned ever so slightly, trying to catch sight of whatever it was that had Rabastan so affected. Her jaw dropped, brown eyes widened in shock and she couldn't keep from taking a faltering step back. There, right in the middle of the battlefield, stood Neville, face ashen and with an expression of disbelief. His entire torso was covered in blood, not his, but the one he'd just planted his sword in. The one and only: Lord Voldemort.

* * *

The ship rocked steadily, back and forth from side to side. It was easily manipulated by the gentle waves surrounding them. The wind blew strongly into large sails, pushing the rough fabric to its limit as they gradually moved forward. It wouldn't be long now. There was nothing more than a couple of hours. And then the only thing standing in his way would be a massive sea of orcs: easily handled. Not something he would've been too worried about had it not been for the fact that Harry was somewhere in that sea.

He knew perfectly well that his mate was more than capable of taking care of himself, no matter how questionable his methods in doing so were. Legolas could not, however, shake off the persistent and foreboding feeling that something bad was going to happen. It made him anxious, impatient and restless. His feet had left a permanent mark on the ship's deck from all his pacing. And he was quite certain that Aragorn and Gimli were becoming more and more unsettled by his obvious worry. Consequently, the whole ship was brimming with tension.

"You are worried." Aragorn came to stand beside him, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the railing before pulling out his beloved pipe. Wizened eyes gazed out at the shore slowly passing by while experienced hands began stuffing the long stemmed, wooden pipe.

Legolas drew a deep breath, licking his suddenly parched lips. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the railing, his mouth pressing into a thin line and his blue eyes narrowed as he confirmed. "I _am_ worried."

"Gandalf is with him, protecting him." The man muttered as he lit fire to the tobacco in the pipe chamber, watching as the flame died down and embers began glowing. "Harry will be all right."

"There are some things," Legolas whispered, his gaze following the tendrils of smoke escaping the pipe chamber and playfully floating up into the sky, "that not even Gandalf can protect him from."

He grew restless again; his whole body trembling as he roughly pushed away from the railing and once more began pacing in an agitated manner. White teeth glinted in the air as they latched onto his lower lip, mercilessly abusing it. His breath came in short and rapid inhales. His eyes darted back and forth, unable to find something to settle on. The elf's entire frame mirrored the restlessness on the inside.

Finally he came to a halt, spinning around to stare straight at his quiet companion. "I knew from the very beginning that Harry is not from this world, how could he be when there is something so otherworldly about him? I've accepted this because it is a part of who Harry is, but ever since he parted from us in Lothlorien I have had this niggling suspicion that refuses to leave me no matter what I do."

Frustrated, the elf dragged a hand through his long, blond locks. "Even though I know Harry is mine to keep, I cannot help but to feel as if his world and everything in it will rob him from me."

"Nonsense!" Gimli's brusque voice suddenly cut into their conversation as the dwarf came marching up on deck. "As if the lad would ever allow such a thing!"

"But that's just it," blond brows furrowed as a frown covered Legolas' face. "What if he _wants_ them to? It's his home for Valar's sake; Harry wanting to return is inevitable. What am _I_ compared to _that_?"

And then Aragorn, still contentedly smoking his pipe, spoke up. "I think that you are underestimating Harry's love for you, Legolas. You should trust in him."

The ragged looking man's words were measured, carefully weighed before having been uttered. Calm grey eyes gazed at Legolas with such certainty that it was near impossible to doubt his words. Still, Legolas could not quite push away his worries. What could he offer that Harry didn't already have back in his world? What was he compared to the family that was no doubt waiting for him to return?

"It's easy then, isn't it?" Gimli commented, "All you have to do is find Harry and ask him. Simple."

"It's better than what you are doing right now." Aragorn pointed out when Legolas turned to him for his opinion. A cloud of smoke escaped the man's mouth as he spoke, his thin lips rough with dry and cracked skin. "It gives you something to focus on—other than Harry being in danger."

"You'll see my friend," Gimli added his two cents, "everything will turn out just fine."

* * *

His heart was breaking, shattering into thousands of pieces, devoured by an icy darkness that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. It was as if his very soul had been ripped out of him, as if the very ground he was standing on had been dragged out from under his feet, leaving him in a floating pool of naught. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, to lie down and waste away until he could finally join his Harry in death.

He couldn't see anything; his surroundings were nothing more than a blur. The world was a fickle, insignificant little thing compared to the one lying unmoving on the cold stone table before him. His life no longer held any meaning; everything that was good had vanished the moment Harry's soul had left his body.

"I..." Gandalf's voice came from his right, accompanied by the weight of a hand settling on his shoulder. "I am sorry, my friend. I never should have left him to fight on his own."

Blank blue eyes shifted to look at the old man with an uncomprehending glint, as if unable to grasp what the wizard had just uttered. The room grew silent as the elf turned back to his beloved mate. He stood unmoving, almost like an ancient statue. Like a hollow shell, a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Perhaps you should sit down." Despite his words Aragorn made no move to guide the elf to a chair, instead he turned to join his friend in watching the body—Harry's body. Taking in the pale flesh, the closed eyes that would never open nor shine with life again and the way that chest refused to move, no matter how much Aragorn willed it to. Suddenly, he found himself struggling to keep his bearings, repeatedly swallowing in order to rid himself of the lump residing in his throat that had grown uncomfortably large. The burning in his eyes signalled that he was just moments away from crying. A thought suddenly struck him—almost like lightning struck a tree. Oh how much agony Legolas must be in. His own pain could be nothing compared to that of the elf.

Once again he found himself looking at his friend, growing more and more concerned by the lack of reaction on Legolas' part. It wasn't natural, wasn't healthy that from the moment Legolas had heard of Harry's death he had expressed nothing. No pain, no sorrow, not even anger. Aragorn had never witnessed an elf's fading, but from the stories Lord Elrond had told him as a child he was absolutely certain that this was not how it happened. He knew that it was usually something..._more_, something more desperate, agonized. And for Legolas, who had always been so in touch with his feelings, to not even show a sliver of emotion was not normal; not at all.

"We should bring him somewhere else." Aragorn murmured, sharing a concerned look with Gandalf. "Give him some time to process things."

Without a word Gandalf moved forward, grabbing a hold of the blanket keeping Harry modest and gently moved it to cover the rest of his body. Having done this he turned and, with the help of Aragorn, began guiding the elf out of the room. Step by step they neared the door, Legolas growing tenser as they did so. And by the time they had set foot out in the hallway, the elf was near frantic in his need to return to Harry. With a loud reverberating growl, he tore himself out of Gandalf and Aragorn's arms and ran straight back to his mate's body. Swiftly, he ripped away the sheet covering Harry and buried his face in the crook of his throat, his entire frame sagging with relief as he inhaled Harry's magnificent scent.

It was perfectly clear: Legolas was not to be removed from his mate.

And so minutes turned into hours, hours into days and not a single sign of Harry awakening was seen. Steadily their hope dwindled, and the only thing keeping them from giving their friend a proper burial was the elf that reacted violently each time they tried to move Harry from his sight, and Gandalf who kept insisting that something would happen if they only believed in Harry.

They were at a standstill, frozen without any means of escape. It was as if time itself was working against them, doing its very best to keep them from moving forward. And then, exactly one week after Harry had died, everything changed.

He woke up.

"I love you." Harry whispered immediately shooting up into a sitting position, ignoring the way his barely healed wounds stretched in protest and latched onto Legolas in a crushing embrace, burying his face in the softness of the elf's hair.

"I love you," he repeated the words until they became a mantra, flowing across his tongue and lips without pause. Green eyes turned blank with tears, his nostrils flaring as he desperately inhaled Legolas' scent. Years, it felt as if it had been years since he had last seen him.

He gained no response.

A bit put out he leaned back and cupping Legolas' jaw drew careful circles with his thumbs, as if trying to imprint the feel of him, confirming that he was truly there before him. Attentive green eyes flitted back and forth, hungrily taking in every single detail, from the firm muscles clenching and unclenching in Legolas' chin to the play of colour in his eyes. And still he was not gifted with any reaction.

A shaky whisper escaped him, "Legolas?"

"He has been like this for days now. I'm afraid he did not take the news of your death particularly well." A figure moved in the far corner of the room, shifting as if to make itself more comfortable. "I believe he may need some time to recover."

"But he's alive." Harry stated, as if to reinforce that idea. "He's alive..."

"Yes, he is." Gandalf rose from his seat, calmly making his way over to the younger wizard. A gentle smile dominated the old man's features, as he grabbed a hold of Harry's shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze, silently urging him to lie back down. "Did you succeed? Did you manage to do whatever it was that you needed to?"

"Of course," Harry replied, refusing to budge from his position, "would I be here otherwise?"

"No, I suppose you would not."

Harry shifted, an expression of discomfort flitting across his face as he tried—with no luck—to worm his way out from under Legolas' upper body. He was beginning to lose the feeling in his legs and at the same time a pressing matter had suddenly made itself known, literally. He had to pee.

With a lot of squirming, tugging, hisses of pain and after many attempts, Harry finally managed to move away from Legolas, making sure the elf's torso was securely placed on the cold surface of the stone table. Drawing a deep breath, Harry moved so he was sitting with his feet firmly planted on the ground, while at the same time clutching at his stomach—as if that would keep his wounds from hurting. He took his time, repeatedly curling his toes while trying to get some feeling back in his limbs. Carefully, he rose to his feet, making sure to keep a tight grip on the table to support himself.

His muscles were trembling with the effort it took for him to keep himself upright—a simple manoeuvre being more exerting than it should be. He steeled himself, building up the guts to finally move his foot and taking a step—albeit a small one—forward. His strength failed him, gravity came into the picture and with a sharp gasp and a cry of pain Harry fell to the floor.

One week of simply lying there and doing nothing, had not done anything good for his body, it seemed.

"C-could you help me to the bathroom, please?" Harry winced, feeling his cheeks filling with blood at the embarrassment of needing assistance to do something so simple as to relieve himself.

A concerned looking Gandalf crouched so they were on the same level, reaching out to grab a hold of Harry's arms. "You should have asked me to begin with. You are not invincible, Harry, you still have the same wounds you had when you died."

With strength his looks belied Gandalf lifted Harry up onto his feet, wrapping an arm around the younger wizard's waist while at the same time throwing Harry's left arm up and over his broad shoulders, willingly taking on Harry's weight. Slowly, they moved towards the exit, stopping now and then to allow Harry some respite from the pain that accompanied their every move.

"Is it all right to leave him here? What if he wakes up?" Harry questioned when they'd finally reached the door, glancing back in Legolas' direction.

"He'll be fine. I'm sure we can make it back before he wakes up. Don't worry." Tightening his grip on Harry, Gandalf gently led him out into the hallway, using his foot to close the door behind them.

The resulting slam echoed through the empty hallway.

* * *

A sigh of relief escaped him as he exited the bathroom and gently closed the door behind him, having finally relieved himself. A pair of strong hands immediately settled on his shoulders, gently guiding him back in the direction from which they came. The strain of moving was finally taking its toll, wearing him down to the point of him stumbling with each step he took.

"Easy, Harry." Gandalf murmured, putting a light pressure on his right shoulder in order to slow him down. "There's no need to hurry. Legolas won't be disappearing off without you there."

"Gandalf!" A panicked voice suddenly rang through the air, followed by a frantic Hobbit running in their direction. "Gandalf! They're gone! Legolas has run off with Harry!"

"Legolas is gone?" Gandalf murmured, ignoring Pippin's round eyes and sudden lack of breathing as the little man caught sight of a living Harry. "Are you certain, Pippin?"

"Pippin!" Harry was frozen, his green eyes frantically darting back and forth between Gandalf and Pippin. His muscles were tense, ready to jump into action the very moment Pippin confirmed what had already been voiced. Legolas was gone.

A slight, hesitant nod was his cue.

His hair flew about his head in an unruly mass of curls, swishing from side to side with his every movement. Grimaces flitted across his face at a rapid pace, his breathing hitched and irregular. Every step he took was pure agony, a horrible throbbing pain shooting through him as he sprinted through the hallway. And yet, no matter how much pain he was in it paled in comparison to the prospect of never seeing Legolas again.

With this in mind he quickened his step, ignoring Gandalf shouting for him to slow down. His bare feet barely made a sound as they skidded across the cold stone floor. He was drenched in blood, and by the time he finally reached his destination, the red liquid was running down his stomach in heavy streams. Feebly, he pushed at the door, his pale face losing even more colour at the sight that greeted him. The room was empty.

A weak whimper escaped him, his whole body turning heavy as he fell to the hard floor with a muted thud. Black dots tainted his vision as it became harder and harder to breathe. Blood had begun pooling around his body, a small pond of thick, hot, crimson liquid. . Trembling he fell to lean against the rough wood that made up the door, closing his eyes for a short moment.

That was all it took. The simple action of closing and opening his eyes was all it took for the tears to start running. Choked sobs rocked through his body, merciless and unstoppable. A trembling hand reached up to clutch at a vulnerable throat, clawing at it, his nails leaving behind red scratches.

"Harry...?" A hesitant voice sounded from behind him, barely registering in the chaos that was his mind.

A couple of minutes passed in silence with Harry slumped on the floor, uttering no sound—with the exception of the occasional whimper and sob that managed to worm its way around the fist he had taken to biting on. Strong hands reached down to grab a hold of his shoulders, gently lifting him to his feet while at the same time being extraordinarily careful not to open his wounds even further. Slowly Harry was guided further into the room and carefully placed on a couch located only a few feet away from the table he had been lying on for the past week.

"You shouldn't be up and moving." The _'You shouldn't even be _alive' went unsaid. Aragorn moved into a crouch, cradling Harry's left cheek in his warm hand, his thumb caressing in slow circles as if to make sure that Harry truly was warm and breathing. That he was alive.

"Harry?" Aragorn whispered, leaning back to rest on the balls of his feet, attentively taking in everything about his friend. A few seconds passed before grey eyes widened in shock as he finally caught sight of all the blood covering the young wizard.

"Lie down for me." The rugged looking man ordered, gently pushing on Harry's shoulder. It concerned him how little protest the young wizard made. Aragorn had gotten used to how Harry acted when it came to treating his injuries—usually preferring to ignore them and act as if he had never gotten them rather than admitting it and asking for help. Something—other than him dying—must have happened for Harry to be so complacent.

"I don't know how you managed to sneak by Legolas, Harry, but this was incredibly foolish of you, opening your wounds like this. Where is Legolas, by the way?" Calloused hands gently smeared on some sort of green salve to his wounds, making sure to thoroughly cover them before Aragorn rose to his feet in search of some new bandages.

Unaware of how Harry's face twisted into a grimace at the mention of Legolas, Aragorn continued. "Now that I think about it, it is rather odd that he'd allow you out of his sight now when you've finally woken."

"He didn't." Harry whispered, barely audible. "He was asleep."

"I see." Aragorn spun around, two rolls of bandages clutched in his hands as he made his way back to Harry's side. "He must've been thrilled to wake up and discover that you were gone. And where was Gandalf? I was under the impression that he was watching over you both."

It became clear to Harry then that Aragorn was in no way pleased. In fact, he sounded quite agitated as he began wrapping Harry's torso with the clean bandages. Though, whether it was with him or if it was Gandalf the man was so irritated by, he didn't know. It was difficult to say really.

"There, that should do it." The man muttered as he rose to his feet, taking one final glance at the now covered wounds to make sure that the bandages were properly fastened before turning and dragging the chair Legolas had practically been living in over to the couch. "Now, would you care to tell me why you're alive when mere hours from now you were so obviously dead?"

Once again silence was the only response.

Blank green eyes stared unseeingly into the air as Harry sat stock still, having retreated into his own mind, leaving his body an empty shell. He doubted himself, doubting his decision to stay and, in turn, abandoning his friends and family. Guilt was eating at him, both for Legolas and for the world and people he had chosen to leave. Cowardly, that's what he was, he concluded. A complete and utter coward for having so selfishly decided to stay with his mate instead of going back to finish what was his to finish. By destroying the horcrux within him and choosing to stay in Middle-Earth Harry had painted half the fence and left the rest of it for someone else to complete.

Had he not, ever since he had arrived in Middle-Earth, strived to find a way back home? Had he not done everything in his power to fulfil his wish of seeing Ron and Hermione again? How was it that he had given it all up so easily and with no thought of the repercussions it would bring?

His answer came in the form of a door being violently slammed open.

A loud bang—loud enough to startle him out of the trance he found himself to be in—echoed off the walls, making way for a new array of noises, or more specifically voices. Soft, beckoning voices; the kind of voices used when dealing with a dangerous creature. Frantic shuffling of feet suddenly mixed with the voices, growing in volume until three—no five—figures clumsily stumbled into the room. The fellowship—minus three—was once again gathered together.

"Careful!" Gimli warned in a gruff voice as he cast a worried look at the ones behind him, or more specifically at Gandalf and the one he was supporting.

Harry's breath caught, his eyes drinking in the sight before him like a ravenous man would a glorious feast. Legolas had seen better days, that was for sure. His blond hair was tangled and had a slight sheen of grease to it, as if the elf hadn't washed it for a while. Dark circles put years on his face, making it seem as if he was an elf who had lived for thousands of years, an elf that was slowly but surely moving closer to the brink of death. And yet, despite all of this, Harry was so happy and relieved at seeing him that Legolas had never been more handsome in his eyes.

He wanted to speak, desperately trying to force his voice into working, but all that came out was a pathetic little whimper. It did the trick though. Because the moment it escaped him Legolas immediately took notice of him.

Time seemed to stand still as their eyes met, green clashing with blue. Harry jerked forward into a sitting position, hissing as his body protested his movements. Ignoring Aragorn's restraining hand he reached out to his elf, a pleading look in his eyes as his arm trembled with effort. For one painstaking minute nothing happened. And just as Harry was about to give up and lower his arm in defeat, Legolas reacted.

A rush of air was his only warning before he found himself bundled up in Legolas' embrace. The elf's arms restraining him in a possessive grip, immediately spinning around so his back kept Harry from the others' view.

"Is it you?" A shuddering breath left the elf, sending shivers down Harry's spine as it brushed against a patch behind his right ear. "Is it truly you?"

"Yes." Harry whispered, reaching up to cup Legolas' cheek as if attempting to provide him with some proof that, yes it really was him. Weakly, he caressed the flawless skin with his thumb, rubbing in soft circles.

"I'm sorry," He began when it became obvious that no answer would be forthcoming, "I'm sorry for putting you through so much, for always disappearing when we've finally resolved our problems. It's downright cruel and vicious of me, taking several steps back when I have promised to take one forward. I'm sorry for dying, for scaring you so."

"Why?" Legolas' voice was hoarse from disuse and a sliver of accusation lingered behind the elf's eyes. "Give me a reason, anything that can explain the continuous hell I've been through these last few weeks."

"I..." Harry hesitated for a second, not sure if the words about to leave his mouth were the right ones. And a sigh escaped the confines of his mouth as he came to the conclusion that the time had come, he would have to be honest and tell Legolas the truth. For if he did not he feared that nothing could redeem him in Legolas' eyes. It was apparent; the elf had been pushed to the limit.

It was time to come clean and inform them of the plan that had ruled his actions for the last couple of weeks.

And so with a deep breath Harry began. "At the beginning of my stay here all I could think of was finding a way back home. My only reason for joining you on this quest was so that I could accomplish that. Everything changed though, what with me being your mate. All of a sudden I had to take you into consideration and everything turned complicated from there on. And then I didn't know what to do because there were you, and then there were my friends and family and either way I had to choose one or the other."

"Then we split up. I met Alantar and finally got the answers I was seeking, which in turn led to this. I've known for quite some time now that my stay in this world would—no matter what I did to prevent it—end up with my death." He lay back then, giving in to his screaming muscles and ignoring the way Legolas shifted as if readying himself to prevent any attempt of escape on Harry's part.

He continued, doing his best to find a comfortable position—one that wouldn't send a jolt of pain through his body every time he drew a breath. "Where I come from we have something called horcrux, it's very dark magic that involves tearing ones soul apart and storing those pieces in various inanimate objects—a sort of half-assed attempt at gaining immortality. Voldemort—the dark lord who killed my parents—had in total seven Horcruxes. Seven pieces of a soul that had to be destroyed before Voldemort could die. I was one of these. Thus, I had to die."

A tense silence filled the air for a moment, grim faces surrounding him on all edges. Until suddenly a voice piped up, "I don't get it. You say you had to die, but you're still here."

Pippin, as always, voiced what everyone thought, but did not dare to say.

"I did die—or rather Voldemort's soul died. You could say that I—for a moment—had one foot in the grave and the other in life."

"But you're here to stay, right?" Merry joined in, his large eyes staring at him in a hopeful manner. "You're not suddenly going to disappear on us again, are you?"

For a long moment nothing happened. No sound was uttered, no movement was made—everything was quiet in anticipation of Harry's answer. And then the young wizard shifted, his green eyes moving to take in all those that surrounded him.

"No," Harry finally replied, pointedly gazing at Legolas as a smile spread across his face. "I'm here to stay. For good."

**The End**


End file.
